THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


A  TiNNESSEE  JUDGE 


By  Opie  Read: 

A  TENNESSEE  JUDGE 
THE  COLOSSUS 
A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL 
EMMETT  BONLORE 
LEN  GANSETT 
SELECTED  STORIES 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  Publishers 
Chicago 


A 

TENNESSEE 
JUDGE 


BY 


OPIE  R§AD 


Author  of  "A  KENTUCKY  COLONEL."  "THE  COLOSSUS,"  "EMMETT  BONLORE, 

(JAXSETT,"   "SELECTED  STORIES,"  etc. 


CHICAGO 
LAIRD  &  LEE,  PUBLISHERS 


ENTERED 

According  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  eighteen 
hundred  and  ninety  three,  by 

OPIE   READ 

In  the  office  of  the  "Librarian  of  Congress 
at  Washington. 

(ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED) 


A  TENNESSEE  JUDGE 

CHAPTER  I. 

m          A  suggestion  of  coming  baldness  lay  on  the  top 
aj      of  Bob  Hawley's  head;   and  an  old  physician  who 
>•      happened  to  have  much  hair  on  his  own  cranium 
B*      and  who  therefore   regarded  the   loss   of   nature's 
^     top-dressing  as  a  sure   sign   of  a  weakness  some 
where  in  the  constitution,  advised  the  young  man 
^     to  throw  over  the  cares  of  nerve-strung  speculation 
and  to  rest  until  he  should  become  worn  out  with 
inactivity.      Hawley  was    tall,    large,   strong;   and 
his  movements  and  his  talk  were  so   quick   and  so 
3     sudden   as  to   insist    that  his  size  had  more  than 
§      exceeded  the  original  design.      His  eyes  were  brown 
a      and  at  times  were  of  a  soft  light   that   was  not   in 
harmony  with  his  materialistic  nose — he  appeared 
£j      to  have  been  built  either  to  fight  or  to  meditate,  to 
commit  an  impulsive  aggression  and  then  to  sorrow 
over  it,     Years  ago  his  mother  wrote  hymns  for 


6  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

a  Boston  publication,  and  whatever  suggestion   of 
poetry  there  might  have  been  about  him,  he  surely 
inherited  from  her.      She  was  so  gentle  and  so  per 
suasive,  a  creature,  so  modeled  to  assist  in  the  up 
building  of  mankind  that  she  was  induced,  by  her 
sentimental  friends,  to  go  West  and  teach  school 
in  the  neighborhood  of  Chicago.      Here  it  was  that 
Sam  Hawley  met  her.      At  that  time  Sam  Hawley 
was  simply  an  adventurous  spirit,  but   years  later 
he  was  looked  upon  as  one   of  the  wise  men    who 
had  foreseen  the  great  possibilities  of  Chicago.    He 
was  a  sort  of  a  pioneer,  not  to   fight   Indians   and 
blaze  a  pathway  from  one  settlement  to    another, 
but  a  commercial   missionary,  almost   fanatical  in 
his  determination  to  convert  the  devotees  of  a  rude 
barter  to  the  religion  of  an  extensive  trade.   He  was 
willful  and  uncultivated.      He   knew   or   supposed 
that  he  was  of  honest  parentage,  and  back  of  this 
self-satisfactory  condition  ancestry  held  no  interest 
for  him.   Physically  he  was  attractive,  but  in  other 
respects  he  was  so  ordinary  that  the  method  which 
he  must  have  employed   to   win   the  love   of    the 
gentle  school  teacher  could  not  be  surmised  by  his 
intimates;   and  a  wag  sought  to  put  an  end  to  the 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  7 

speculation  by  saying  that  he  did  not  win  her  love 
at  all — that  he  waited  for  an  opportunity  and 
grabbed  it  from  her,  and  that  she  being  too  gentle 
to  protest,  left  it  in  his  possession.  In  this  asser 
tion  there  might  have  been  an  atom  of  truth.  He 
might  gruffly  have  demanded  her  love  and  she  may 
have  been  too  timid  to  refuse  him.  At  any  rate 
she  was  strongly  attached  to  him — not  alone  by  a 
marriage  ceremony  which  indeed  did  not  necessarily 
mean  a  stout  tie — but  by  fine  threads  spun  by  sym 
pathy  and  twisted  by  affection.  At  the  time  of  the 
birth  of  his  son,  Sam  Hawley  was  engaged  in  an 
uncertain  though  it  happened  to  be  a  prosperous 
business.  He  speculated  in  stocks.  In  fact  it  was 
said,  and  by  an  envious  person,  of  course,  that  he 
was  simply  the  proprietor  of  a  bucket-shop.  Later 
he  settled  down  to  the  more  legitimate  trade  of 
buying  and  selling  real  estate,  though  at  that  time 
in  Chicago  it  was  not  easy  to  determine  which 
estate  was  real  and  which  was  not. 

The  desire  of  Mrs.  Hawley's  devotional  heart 
was  to  see  her  son  fitted  for  one  of  the  learned 
professions,  and  naturally  the  pulpit  stood  first, 
but  fearing  to  hope  for  so  much  in  this  world  which 


8  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

maliciously  seeks  to  corode  our  brightest  wishes, 
she  secondarily  settled  upon  the  law.  But  Sam 
Hawley  hoote,d  at  the  pulpit  and  grunted  at  the 
bar.  He  said  that  he  wanted  his  son  to  be  a  busi 
ness  man.  A  professional  man  started  out  as  a 
suppliant  and  very  often  ended  as  a  failure. 
Preachers  were  essential,  it  was  true,  and  the 
rascality  and  the  stupidity  of  man  had  made  the 
lawyer  a  makeshift  if  not  a  necessity;  but  he  did 
not  desire  his  son  to  begin  life  with  an  apology. 
He  must  understand  that  it  was  fight  from  the 
start.  Oh,  the  preacher  and  the  lawyer  were  bold 
enough  after  a  while,  but  at  first  they  appeared  to 
frame  excuses  for  their  existence.  He  did  not 
object  to  education.  Some  of  the  world's  most 
successful  men -had  been  educated,  not  as  an  essen 
tial,  of  course,  but  as  a  happening. 

In  school  the  boy  made  smooth  and  easy  prog 
ress,  and  by  his  aptness  at  figures  he  delighted  his 
father.  The  mother  insisted  upon  grammar.  To 
count  was  rude  in  comparison  with  the  elegance 
of  speech.  Nearly  everyone  could  multiply  and 
divide,  but  every  one  could  not  employ  the 
language  of  a  gentleman-  and  she  did  so  ardently 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  9 

pray  that  her  son  might  be  a  gentleman.  Her 
father  and  her  grandfather  were  gentlemen.  But 
Hawley  said:  "Man  first  and  gentleman  when  you 
have  the  time." 

But  he  yielded  to  the  almost  ceaseless  entreaty 
of  his  wife  and  agreed  that  the  youngster  might  be 
"finished"  in  college,  and  to  college  he  went.  And 
here  he  was  drawing  credit  unto  himself  while 
feeding  his  mother's  pride,  when  the  father  snatched 
him  off  the  campus  and  placed  him  at  a  desk  in  a 
real  estate  office.  Religion  softened  the  mother's 
resentment;  it  taught  her  that  her  longing  had 
been  prideful  and  was  therefore  wicked.  But 
neither  the  aggressive  father  nor  the  gentle  mother 
has  much  to  do  with  this  history;  for  while  yet 
comparatively  a  young  man,  the  father,  worn  out 
by  the  friction  of  intense  activity,  was  laid  away 
in  eternity's  sub-division;  and  but  a  few  years  had 
elapsed  when  the  mother  had  followed  him  to  this 
one  place  whose  attractions  and  great  advantages 
are  not  "bulled"  by  the  real-estate  liar. 

Bob  Hawley  was  then  twenty-three  years  old. 
His  father  had  left  a  paying  business,  in  somewhat 
of  a  tangled  condition,  but  in  time  it  was  straight- 


IO  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

ened  out  and  so  systematized  as  to  be  made  to 
yield  an  income  that  could  be  counted  upon.  But 
speculation  with  its  impulse  soon  overruled  stale 
system  and  came  near  wiping  Hawley's  dot  off  the 
face  of  the  commercial  map.  He  had  many  friends 
particularly  among  the  "plungers"  whom  his  father 
had  accommodated,  but  they  fell  away  from  him 
about  the  time  the  screws  were  turned  on  to  pain 
ful  and  to  dangerous  tightness;  indeed  he  discovered 
that  an  old  friend  was  turning  the  screws.  This 
friend  had  an  office  in  La  Salle  street.  Bob  called 
on  him  one  morning,  kicked  him  out  of  his  own 
office,  paid  his  fine  and  obtained  financial  assistance 
from  an  old  bucket-shop  gambler,  a  comparative 
stranger  but  a  man  who  admired  nerve.  When 
his  business  had  again  been  set  in  good  running 
order  his  friends,  true  to  the  traditions  of  human 
nature's  short-sighted  frailty,  called  at  his  office 
and  congratulated  him.  They  were  sorry  that 
they  had  not  been  able  to  help  him;  and  he  be 
lieved  them  for  the  hair  on  the  top  of  his  head  was 
still  thick.  Of  course  he  had  real  friends,  as  every 
bright  and  attractive  young  fellow  must,  but  it 
seems  that  our  real  friends  instead  of  being  able  to 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  I  I 

help  us,  are  themselves  in  need  of  aid.  And  it  is 
here  that  Fate  indulges  her  keenest  sarcasm. 
When  things  or  events  or  whatever  these  devilish 
intangibilities  may  be  termed  conspire  to  sour  a 
man,  they  rarely  conspire  in  vain.  And  when 
man,  as  a  pliant  agent  of  this  conspiracy  leaves  his 
work  unfinished,  woman  has  been  known  to  com 
plete  it.  A  man  in  whom  young  Hawley  placed  a 
faith  almost  creed-like  in  its  strength,  beat  him 
out  of  ten  thousand  dollars;  and  a  smirk  young 
woman  with  whom  he  had  more  or  less  innocently 
amused  himself,  sued  him  for  breach  of  promise. 
His  literary  training  had  reached  its  completion 
when  his  father  snatched  him  out  of  Knox  College; 
his  Chicago  education  was  progressing  rapidly. 

At  the  time  when  this  history  begins  and  when 
Hawley  was  thirty  years  old — to  him  a  long  stretch 
of  time  full  of  cunning  experience — he  was  rather 
mistrustful  of  men  and  exceeding  shy  of  women. 
He  knew  that  there  were  honest  men,  but  it  took 
more  than  a  fawning  smile  to  convince  him;  and 
he  believed  in  the  virtue  and  nobility  of  women 
— that  is,  of  some  women — but  the  possibility  of  a 
breach  of  promise  suit  scared  him  mightily.  He 


12  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

lived  in  the  top  of  a  tall  building  in  which  he  held 
a  third  interest;  he  caught  up  his  breakfast  any 
where;  he  swallowed  his  noon-tide  snack  in  a 
crowded  feed-trough,  but  his  dinner  at  the  club 
was  a  meal  civilized  with  many  dishes  and  refined 
with  leisure. 

Hawley  was  at  dinner  when  the  doctor  told  him 
that  he  needed  to  wear  himself  out  with  rest. 

"But  doing  nothing  tires  me  more  than  the  most 
constant  work,"  Hawley  retorted. 

"The  sick  man's  ready  excuse,"  said  the  doctor; 
and  after  a  brief  silence  he  added:  "Bob,  I  knew 
your  father — he  and  I  came  to  Chicago  about  the 
same  time.  And  I  was  the  first  man  to  notice  that 
he  was  killing  himself.  Do  you  want  to  know  what 
the  first  symptom  was?  Loss  of  hair.  I  came 
near  saying  premature  baldness,  but  all  baldness  is 
premature.  A  lion  doesn't  lose  his  mane;  ahorse 
doesn't  lose  his  hair;  then  why  should  a  man 
become  bald?  We  are  told  that  it  is  a  disease  of 
the  scalp.  But  what  is  a  disease  of  the  scalp  but 
a  disease  of  the  body?  Oh,  I  know  that  this 
theory  of  mine  is  laughed  at.  And  just  look  back 
over  the  history  of  medical  discovery  and  you'll 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  13 

see  that  nearly  all  truth  at  one  time  or  another  has 
served  as  a  laughing  stock.  Mark  what  I  tell  you: 
When  a  man  finds  that  he  is  losing  his  hair  it  is 
time  to  reduce  the  amount  of  his  work.  By  the 
way,  I  think  I  have  a  good  plan  for  you." 

"What  is  it?" 

"A  trip." 

"What  sort  of  a  trip?" 

The  doctor  took  a  spoonful  of  soup,  looked  up  at 
Bob  and  said: 

"A  wedding  trip." 

"Ah,  hah?  I  have  heard  that  a  bridal  tour  is 
rather  a  pleasant  sort  of  a  journey,  but  does  it 
occur  to  you  that  I  have  no  bride?  And  a  wedding 
journey  without  a  bride  would  be  rather  a  one-sided 
affair,  I  should  think." 

"You  must  get  one.  The  truth  is,  Bob,  you 
ought  to  marry  and  be  more  settled." 

"That  reminds  me  of  Bates,"  Hawley  replied. 
"You  know  him.  Well,  he  married  and  it  served 
as  a  settler  in  his  case.  Used  to  be  one  of  the 
best  fellows  in  the  world — high-minded,  independ 
ent,  paid  his  share  always.  Now  what  is  he?  His 
wife,  either  by  gentleness  or  some  other  means, 


14  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

has  hen-pecked  him  into  the  belief  that  he  is  a  long 
ways  her  inferior  intellectually.  She  doles  out 
money  to  him  and  he  is  afraid  to  spend  a  cent- 
afraid  that  she'll  call  him  to  account  for  it.  He 
is  expected  to  be  home  at  a  certain  time  and  he's 
oh  the  keen  jump  to  get  there.  Sits  up  here  and 
watches  the  clock.  He  told  me  the  other  day  with 
a  very  weak  laugh  that  he  never  really  needed  a 
watch  until  after  he  was  married.  Says  that  if  he 
doesn't  do  exactly  as  his  wife  wants  him,  she  cries 
— she  has  reduced  him  to  slavery  with  the  salt 
water  method.  I  may  be  in  need  of  rest,  doctor, 
but  I  am  not  in  need  of  marriage.  To  tell  you  the 
truth,  I  am  nervous,  and  it  makes  me  mad,  too — 
big  fellow — " 

"My  dear  boy,"  the  doctor  interrupted,  "that's 
the  point.  'Big  fellow"'— -he  shook  his  finger  at 
Hawley — "big  fellow  is  in  danger  more  than  little 
fellow.  We  naturally  expect  a  little  fellow  to 
exhibit  the  signs  of  weakness.  It  seems  to  me  that 
if  I  had  plenty  of  money  that  I  would  add  to  the 
length  of  my  earthly  tenure  of  office  by  gratifying 
some  sort  of  whim;  I  would  travel —I  would  do 
something  rather  than  to  sentence  myself  to  the 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  I  5 

additional  worry  of  trying  to  get  more  money. 
But  man  hasn't  any  sense,  Bob;  that  is,  man  and 
money  together.  Poverty  is  the  only  really  shrewd 
fellow,  the  only  genuine  critic  of  "life.  The  rich 
man  is  constantly  doing  something  or  eternally 
leaving  something  undone  that  this  poverty- 
edged  fellow,  this  sharp  wit  would  never  do  or 
leave  undone.  Ah,  but  how  is  it  if  this  fellow  who 
bristles  so  with  sharp  points  becomes  suddenly 
possessed  of  money?  Does  he  retain  his  wit?  Is 
his  criticism  still  sound?  No.  His  wit  is  gone  and 
his  criticism  has  turned  out  to  be  a  dust  and  has 
blown  away.  Money  coddles  him  into  the  belief 
that  a  weakness  is  a  strength.  In  fact,  opportunity 
is  all  that  man  needs  to  become  an  ass.  But  I 
am  an  ass  myself— an  ass  for  trying  to  be  a  philos 
opher  when  I  should  be  a  flatterer,  a  honeyer  of 
people.  I  go  along  and  tell  the  truth.  I  say, 
'My  dear  Mrs.  Weaktee,  there  is  nothing  the 
matter  with  you;  stop  sitting  up  so  late  and  you'll 
be  all  right.'  What  does  she  do?  She  dismisses 
me  and  sends  for  Dr.  Squirt.  He  gives  her  sweet 
stuff  and  is  a  great  man — he  is  a  modern  physician; 
I  am  an  old  fogy.  But  what  were  we  talking 


T6  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

about?  Yes,  about  you.  I  would  like  to  know 
that  you  are  something  more  than  a  mere  money 
getter.  My  home  would  have  added  to  the  assets 
of  the  sheriff,  years  ago,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  your 
father.  Now,  I  would  like  to  save  you  from  adding 
to  the  assets  of  the  undertaker.  But  I  don't  want 
to  bore  you." 

"Doctor,"  and  the  young  man  laughed,  "you  talk 
as  though  I  have  a  long  handled  rake  stuck  into  a 
mint  and  stood  there,  drawing  out  the  coin.  I 
haven't  so  much  money;  I  haven't  so  shrewd  a 
faculty  for  making  investments.  But  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  have:  I  have  a  grain  of  that  admirable 
quality  which  you  say  the  poverty-stricken  wit 
possesses.  That  is,  I  have  a  whim  and  I'm  going 
to  gratify  it.  I  am  going  to  buy  an  old  farm  down 
in  Tennessee  and  breed  fine  stock.  One  of  the 
best  places  in  that  state  is  for  sale.  Years  ago  it 
had  a  wide-spread  reputation.  Men  came  from 
England  to  attend  the  sales  there.  Its  importance 
went  down  with  the  war  and  has  never  come  up 
again.  I  haven't  seen  it  but  a  friend  of  mine  has 
and  he  is  charmed  with  it.  My  business  is  now  in 
such  shape  that  I  can  close  it,  and  next  week  I 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  I? 

shall  start  for  Tennessee.  Think  of  it — an  old 
estate  covered  with  blue-grass,  with  the  tradition 
of  many  a  famous  race-horse  back  of  it;  and  in  the 
mind  of  many  an  old  man  the  memory  of  great 
gatherings  there  in  the  days  when  the  South  had 
an  aristocracy.  To  think  of  it  is  almost  enough  to 
make  a  poet  of  a  plodder.  The  climate  is  delight 
ful;  and  my  friend,  who  is  something  of  a  poet, 
most  happily  described  it  when  he  said  that  there 
I  would  find  no  lagging  winter  and  no  wajiton 
spring." 

"Your  friend  steals  most  happily  from  Shake 
speare,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Does  he?     Well,  he  steals  wisely  at  any  rate." 

"The  man  that  is  found  out  doesn't  steal  wisely," 
the  doctor  declared.  "But  go  ahead  with  your 
pastoral  enthusiasm,"  he  added. 

"You  hit  a  man's  enthusiasm  on  the  head  with 
an  interruption  and  then  expect  him  to  revive  it 
when  you  tell  him  that  he  is  in  league  with  a  thief. 
Seriously,  however,  I'm  going  down  to  look  at  the 
place  and  if  the  agent  hasn't  pushed  the  price  up 
into  the  clouds  I'll  buy  it." 

"Don't  mar  your  bright  landscape  by  introducing 


!8  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

clouds,  Bob. .  You're  right,"  he  quickly  continued, 
glancing  at  the  young  man.  "Buy  the  place  with 
its  traditions  and  its  blue  grass;  put  yourself  in 
touch  with  your  neighbors;  share  their  sympathies 
and  claim  a  part  of  their  prejudices;  turn  to  the 
story  supplement  of  the  newspaper  and  leave 
market  quotations  alone;  black-out  the  annoyances 
of  late  years  so  that  you  may  not  see  them  when 
you  look  back;  believe  that  men  are  honest  but 
don.'t  give  them  much  of  a  chance  to  cheat  you, 
—do  this  and  you'll  be  happy.  I  was  going  to  say 
that  you  would  be  a  great  man,  but  being  great 
would  alloy  your  contentment.  Did  you  ever  hear 
anyone  call  me  a  crank?"  he  broke  off.  "I  warrant 
you  have;  and  let  me  say  right  here  that  the  best 
advice  is  the  advice  given  by  a  crank.  And  why  ? 
Because  it  is  the  most  adventurous  advice.  Well- 
balanced  men  give  commonplace  advice;  a  crank 
is  inventive.  Never  mind,  Bob,  I'll  take  the 
checks.  You  paid  yesterday.  No?  All  right. 
Have  your  own  hard-headed  way." 

As  they  were  getting  into  the  elevator,  two  men 
got  out.  One  of  them,  speaking  in  a  low  tone, 
asked:  "Who  is  that  gray-haired  old  man?" 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  1 9 

"Dr.  Ford,  the  crank,"  the  other  man  answered. 

Hawley  and  the  doctor  halted  for  a  moment 
under  the  arch  of  the  door- way  down  stairs.  "I  may 
not  see  you  again  for  some  time,"  said  Hawley, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

"Are  you  really  in  earnest?"  the  physician  asked, 
shaking  hands  with  him. 

"About  going  to  Tennessee?  Yes;  it's  not 
central  Africa.  Why  shouldn't  I  be  in  earnest? 
Give  me  advice  and  then  be  surprised  that  I  should 
follow  it  ?" 

"Well,  you  see,  Bob,  a  wise  man  is  always  a 
little  afraid  that  his  friend  may  follow  his  advice. 
But  really  I  am  glad  you're  going.  Your  way 
here  is  dangerous  and  your  sojourn  there  will  save 
you.  Let  me  hear  from  you." 


CHAPTER  II. 

It  was  early  on  a  morning  in  July  when  Hawley 
got  off  a  train   at  Gallatin,    Tennessee.     The    old 
town  was  still  asleep.      A  star  was   fading   in    the 
west.     The  train  rushed   on   and  the  silence  that 
had  been  driven  away,  crept  back  slowly  from  the 
town.  There  were  but  few  persons  on  the  platform. 
One  of  them  was  rather  an   old   man,  dressed  in 
gray  tweed.     He  looked  at   Hawley   and   Hawley 
looked  at  him.     The  agent  and  the  would-be  pur 
chaser  had    met.     The    agent,    after   introducing 
himself,  began  to  apologize  for  the  slowness  of  his 
town.     He  seemed   to   feel    that    the    man    from 
Chicago   was   necessarily   grieved    not    to   find    a 
whirling  turmoil.  And   his  countenance  brightened 
when  Hawley  assured  him  that  the  town  was    fast 
enough.     He  had  left  his  horse  and  buck-board  at 
a  livery  stable,   not  feeling  sure   that  his    visitor 
would  come,  and  he  would  fetch  it  immediately.    He 

hastened  away  and  Hawley  walked  up  and  down 

20 


•    A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE  21 

the  platform.  Signs  that  the  place  was  slowly 
awaking  to  its  regular  course  of  occupation  began 
to  appear.  An  old  sow  crossed  the  railway  track 
and  was  pounced  upon  by  a  dog;  a  sprinkling  cart, 
driven  by  an  old  negro,  turned  into  the  street;  a 
woman  opened  a  door  not  far  away  and  kicked  a 
cat  into  the  yard;  the  station  agent's  underling 
began  to  sprinkle  his  floor;  a  horse  was  heard 
galloping  in  the  distance;  the  town  was  awake. 

The  tweed-dressed  man  arrived  with  his  buck- 
board.  Hawley  got  on  and  was  driven  away. 

Both  date  and  tradition  make  Gallatin  a  very 
old  town.  But  it  has  not  the  appearance  of  dilap 
idation;  it  is  solid  and  venerable,  and  with  a  strong 
resolve  it  has  held  its  three  thousand  inhabitants 
during  many  years.  In  the  center  of  the  town  is 
a  square  and  in  the  center  of  the  square  is  the 
court-house.  It  underwent  material  repairs  in 
1865  and  since  that  time  has  been  pointed  at  with 
pride.  Before  the  war  this  town  was  the  seat  of  a 
proud  aristocracy  and  was  consequently  a  plant- 
bed  of  secession;  but  long  after  one  of  the  finest 
regiments  that  ever  marched  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  had  left  the  neighborhood,  an  old  Union  flag 


22 


floated  from  a  tall  pole  near  the  railway  station. 
No  hand  was  rebellious  enough  to  pull  it  down— 
and  a  sorrowful  yet  a  tender  memory  it  was  left 
there  until  a  man  who  had  come  from  New  England 
to  engage  in  the  traffic  of  human  flesh  climbed  the 
pole  and  tore  it  from  its  fastening. 

Turn-pikes,  coming  from  every  directon,  center 
here.  The  town  is  built  where  the  ground  is  lifted 
into  a  graceful  eminence  and  about  it  the  green 
country  lies  in  gentle  undulation.  Trouble  and 
even  despair  might  have  been  hidden  within  these 
old  walls,  but  after  the  din  of  Chicago  how  peace 
ful  was  the  scene.  There  was  not  a  real  estate 
advertisement  within  sight ;  there  was  no  smooth 
suburban  lawn  but  the  long  grass  in  the  yards 
was  tangled  like  a  horse's  mane  witch-woven. 
Why  had  not  some  one  whose  heart  was  beyond 
the  reach  of  the  world's  eager  greed  brought  forth 
a  poem  in  this  place  of  true  repose — a  poem  to 
water  the  hard  eye  of  man? 

Again  the  agent  apologized  for  the  slowness  of 
his  town.  If  the  people  had  taken  his  advice 
years  ago  the  place  would  have  had  a  "boom." 
He  had  begged  them  to  offer  inducements  to  man- 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2$ 

ufacturers;  he  had  urged  them  to  raise  money 
enough  to  advertise  their  wonderful  resources  so 
that  the  world  might  be  induced  to  contribute  to 
their  prosperity,  but  his  words,  so  ready  to  sprout, 
found  no  soil  in  which  to  take  root.  Hawley 
inquired  as  to  what  these  wonderful  resources  con 
sisted  of,  and  the  agent  arose,  holding  to  the  dash 
board  to  keep  from  tumbling  out,  and  waved  his 
hand  at  the  surrounding  universe.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  sadly  shook  his  head.  The  man  from 
materialistic  Chicago  ventured  to  assert  that  mills 
with  their  blurring  smoke  would  spoil  the  scene 
and  the  agent  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

They  had  turned  into  another  street,  having 
passed  through  the  town,  and  had  crossed  a  stone 
bridge,  thrown  in  a  single  arch  over  a  clear  stream ; 
and  here  two  turnpikes  merged  into  a  V  shape,  one 
running  along  a  hedge;  the  other  stretching  far  off 
in  the  distance,  like  a  white  mark.  The  agent 
drove  along  the  hedge,  and  was  silent,  not  seeming 
to  know  what  to  say  to  this  man  from  the  com 
mercial  jungle  of  the  West.  But  he  felt  about  and 
found  the  unfailing  recourse,  that  of  declaring  that 
he  might  now  be  a  rich  man  had  he  gone  to  Chicago 


24  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

years  ago.  Many  a  business  failure  throughout 
the  country  soothes  its  own  vanity  by  believing 
that  wonders  would  have  been  accomplished  had 
it  immigrated  to  Chicago  in  the  early  days. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,"  said  Hawley.     "Let's  see, 
how  many  acres  are  there  in  the  Ingleview  farm  ?" 

"Four  hundred  and  eighty,  sir." 

"Is  it  under  cultivation  at  all?" 

"Well,  in  spots,  sir.  Of  late  years  nobody  has 
attempted  to  run  it;  couldn't  get  at  it  very  well, 
anyway.  It  belongs  to  the  Radford  heirs  and  they 
have  done  considerable  squabbling  among  them 
selves.  Yonder  it  lies."  He  pointed  off  to  the 
left.  Hawley  gazed  in  silence.  He  saw  rest  among 
the  trees.  "We  turn  in  here,"  said  the  agent. 
"There  used  to  be  an  iron  gate  here  but  it  was 
torn  off  and  taken  away,  I  don't  know  how  long 
ago.  We'll  go  to  the  house  and  see  if  we  can  get 
something  to  eat." 

The  gate  posts  were  of  stone,  roughly  fashioned 
and  rudely  carved  by  the  hand  of  a  country  mason. 
A  graveled  driveway  led  down  a  gentle  slope, 
crossed  a  rivulet  and  then  wound  about  in  a  grove 
of  oaks,  the  first  growth,  the  trees  grand  and  in- 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  25 

dividualized.  Here  was  a  sudden  rise  of  ground 
and  from  it  could  be  seen  the  blue  grass  stretches 
of  the  farm.  Low  stone  walls,  tumbled  down  in 
many  places;  distant  hillsides  ribbed  with  gullies; 
scars  here  and  there — the  shiftless  pretenses  of 
cultivation;  a  whitening  vista  of  sycarriore  trees; 
a  creek,  blue  and  silent  between  bluffs  and  then 
breaking  out  in  noisy  shallows;  spring  houses  built 
of  stone;  old  barns,  a  negro  quarter  fallen  into 
decay — slavery's  deserted  village;  old  orchards  and 
tangled  plum  thickets — the  atmosphere  of  a  phase 
of  life  that  is  now  forever  gone.  The  dwelling 
house  was  on  a  graceful  swell  of  ground,  over 
looking  the  creek — a  mansion  fine  and  modern 
in  its  day,  but  now  a  quaint  old  structure,  rough, 
built  of  undressed  stone,  contructed  in  the  form  of 
an  L.  And  the  end  of  one  wing  had  fallen  into 
ruins;  one  room  had  bean  exposed  to  the  sunlight 
and  to  the  rain. when  it  drove  hard  from  the  north, 
but  now  it  was  half  protected  by  the  thick  inter 
weaving  of  a  trumpet  vine. 

An  old  negro  woman  who  had  been  born  on  the 
place  had  charge  of  the  house.  She  had  been 
warned  of  the  coming  of  an  important  visitor  and 


26  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

had  been  instructed  to  prepare  for  him;  and  deft 
in  her  touch,  she  had  gone  from  room  to  room, 
dusting  the  scant  furniture.  The  old  piano  that 
looked  like  the  mounted  skeleton  of  some  pre 
historic  monster  was  ornamented  with  a  basket  of 
flowers  gathered  in  the  yard;  the  grim  portraits, ' 
forgotten,  by  the  quarreling  heirs,  were  rubbed  back 
to  a  ghastly  semblance  of  the  painter's  art;  and 
three  young  Shanghai  "pullets"  had  been  slaugh 
tered. 

The  shrewdness  of  Hawley's  instincts  veiled  his 
delight;  the  agent  was  closely  watching  him;  an 
expression  of  pleasure  might  cost  him  money.  After 
breakfast  he  examined  the  house,  and  seemed  to 
hang  with  fondness  about  the  end  room  that  had 
fallen  into  ruin.  He  felt  that  his  father's  keen  eye 
might  gaze  out  over  the  rich  lands  but  he  knew 
that  his  mother's  poetic  senses  would  have  found 
repose  among  the  vines.  He  rode  over  the  farm 
and  then  came  back  to  the  house.  The  agent 
talked  almost  incessantly  but  the  man  from  the 
busy  city  paid  but  little  attention  to  him.  The 
old  negro  woman  appeared  to  be  worried.  She 
was  evidently  afraid  that  her  administration  was 


27 

at  an  end.  She  crossed  the  yard,  singing  a  most 
doleful  air  and  then  returning  to  the  place  where 
Hawley  stood,  plaintively  said  that  she  "didn't 
wish  anybody  any  trouble  and  that  she  did  not 
intend  to  interfere  with  anybody's  affairs  but 
that  she  had  so  often  prayed  that  she  might  be 
permitted  to  end  her  days  on  the  Ingleview  place. 
Hawley  looked  at  her  compassionately.  "And 
so  you  shall,"  said  he.  Then  quickly  he  looked 
about  to  see  if  the  agent  were  within  hearing.  He 
was  not — he  was  talking  to  a  haggard-looking  man 
that  had  just  come  through  the  yard  gate.  "If  I 
buy  this  place,"  Hawley  continued,  "I  don't  intend 
to  wrench  out  any  of  its  tenderer  associations. 
Make  yourself  perfectly  easy."  The  old  woman 
uttered  a  fervent  "God  bless  you,"  and  as  though 
overcome  by  this  stranger's  generosity,  she  hastily 
turned  away.  The  agent  and  the  cadaverous  man 
approached.  He  was  worse  than  being  merely 
cadaverous — he  was  wretched.  His  cheeks  were 
hollow  and  his  eyes  were  sunken  and  lusterless. 
His  head  shook,  and  though  the  day  was  warm, 
he  wore  a  gray  overcoat  drawn  about  his  shoulders. 
He  was  introduced  as  Dr.  Moffet. 


28  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Mighty  glad  to  meet  you,  sir,"  said  the  doctor. 
"I  have  heard  a  great  deal  about  you— 

Hawley  shut  him  off  with  a  look.  "I  don't  know 
why  you  should  have  heard  very  much  about  me." 

The  doctor  bowed.  "I  admire  your  modesty, 
sir,"  he  said.  And  presently  he  added:  "Judge 
Trapnell  and  I  were  talking  about  you  the  other 
day." 

"Talking  about  me?"  Hawley  asked  in  surprise. 

"Yes,  Judge  Trapnell  and  I.  And  we  agreed, 
sir,  that  you  must  be  a  very  modest  man." 

"I  don't  know  why  you  should  have  come  to  any 
such  agreement  since  neither  of  you  had  any  means 
of  finding  out  anything  about  me." 

"Ah,  you  unconsciously  insist  in  asserting  your 
modesty,  sir,"  the  wretched-looking  man  declared, 
drawing  his  overcoat  closer  about  his  shoulders  and 
bowing.  "By  the  way,"  he  added,  "may  I  have 
the  honor  of  a  moment's  private  talk  with  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  Hawley  answered,  significantly  looking 
at  his  watch. 

The  doctor  drew  him  aside,  from  the  agent  and 
from  the  old  negro  woman  who  had  now  returned, 
and  said:  "I  have  lived  here,  sir,  all  my  life,  you 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  29 

might  say.  I  was  educated  by  the  second  Radford 
and  was  placed  here  as  physician  in  charge  of  the 
health  of  this  place.  In  truth  and  in  short,  I 
doctored  the  negroes  and  the  horses,  saving  the 
estate  many  a  dollar  thereby  and  reflecting  con 
siderable  credit  upon  myself.  Every  minute  of  my 
professional  time  belonged  "to  old  General  Radford, 
and  when  he  died  about  the  time  the  war  closed, 
I  continued  to  live  here  on  the  ground  to  which  I 
had  during  a  busy  life  become  so  tenderly  attached, 
still  seeking  to  alleviate  pain.  I  might  have  gone 
out  and  made  a  name,  but  no,  I  remained  here, 
faithful  to  what  I  regarded  as  a  trust.  And  now, 
sir,  coming  straight  to  the  point — and  those  who 
know  me,  especially  Judge  Trapnell,  will  tell  you 
that  straightness  of  statement  is  one  of  the  features 
that  has  characterized  me  during  my  long  career 
—I  say,  coming  to  the  point,  or  rather  I  ask,  having 
come  to  the  point  as  you  perceive,  what  am  I  going 
to  do  if  you  buy  this  place?  Hold  a  moment,"  he 
quickly  added,  lifting  his  hand  with  a  warning 
gesture,  "I  entreat  you  not  to  be  rash.  Although 
sudden  and  straightforward  myself,  I  beg  of  you 
not  to  speak  impulsively  but  to  take  your  own 


3O  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

deliberate  time.  It  is  unfortunately  true  that  there 
is  no  particular  doctering  to  be  done  here  as  in  the 
hallowed  days,  but  still  I  may  be  of  some  use  to 
you,  but  again  taking  up  the  point  which  as  you 
perceive  persists  in  obtruding  itself,  what  arrange 
ment  can  I  make  with  you  for  remaining  on  this 
place,  that  is  in  the  etfent  that  your  good  judgment 
leads  you  into  the  aforesaid  purchase?  I  don't 
ask  any  salary,  sir;  all  I  ask  is  that  cabin  over 
there  and  what  little  I  may  find  myself  able  to  eat, 
and  I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  eat  scarcely 
enough  to  keep  a  chicken  alive.  Hold,"  he  added 
with  another  gesture,  "don't  force  yourself  to 
answer  me  now  with  impulsive  generosity,  but  take 
your  time  and  let  your  judgment  frame  your  reply. 
But  I  can  be  of  a  great  deal  of  use  to  you." 

"I  don't  know  of  any  particular  harm  that  you 
might  do,"  Hawley  replied. 

"I  thank  you  profoundly,  sir,  most  profoundly. 
It  is  so  rare  in  this  day  of  withered  hope  that  de 
pendent  man  receives  a  kindness,  even  by  word,  to 
say  nothing  of  deed,  that  I  cannot  but  say  that  I 

thank  you  most  profoundly.     Look   at   me,  sir" 

opening  his  overcoat  and  showing  his  sunken  breast 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  3! 

— "look  at  me,  sir.  I  am  an  old  man,  and  I  am 
not  well.  There,  I  will  not  detain  you  longer,  and 
I  hope  that  you  will  excuse  the  abrupt  way  I  have 
of  reaching  a  conclusion." 

Hawley  told  the  agent  that  he  would  take  the 
plac*e  if  the  matter  of  terms  and  title  could  be 
satisfactory  settled;  and  early  in  the  afternoon  they 
drove  back  to  town.  Under  the  heat  of  the  fervid 
day  the  place  had  lost  some  of  its  poetic  freshness, 
but  its  air  of  restfulness  remained.  It  held  a  lazy 
attractiveness.  There  was  no  sign  anywhere  of 
want,  and  yet  the  people  ruffled  not  their  good 
humor  with  unseemly  thrift.  Every  man  appeared 
to  regard  himself  as  eminently  respectable,  and  if 
it  be  true  that  leisure  is  one  of  the  marks  of  gen 
tility,  he  certainly  placed  not  too  high  an  estimate 
upon  himself.  About  the  court-house,  sitting  in 
the  shade  with  their  chairs  tipped  back,  reposed 
the  town's  aristocracy,  waiting  for  some  one  to  cut 
a  watermelon.  Their  hats  were  on  the  ground 
beside  them  and  each  hat  contained  a  handkerchief. 
They  had  not  come  merely  to  rest  for  a  few 
moments — they  were  there  for  all  day.  No  not 
exactly  for  all  day.  They  had  a  "recess"  when  the 


32  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

court-house  bell  startled  them  into  the  conscious 
ness  that  it  was  time  to  go  home  and  get  some 
thing  to  eat.  How  did  they  live?  That  question 
has  been  asked  a  thousand  times,  and  no  Solomon 
has  ever  been  able  satisfactorily  to  answer  it. 
Occasionally  the  group  would  receive  reinforcement 
from  the  lawyers  and  tradesmen  about  the  square, 
and  sometimes  the  county  clerk  would  come  out, 
and  standing  in  the  door,  would  tell  a  joke  that  had 
been  brought  from  North  Carolina  in  1795. 

Hawley  was  introduced.  The  business  in  hand 
was  as  nothing  in  comparisonwith  a  presentation  to 
these  worthies.  The  old  .gentlemen  tilted  forward 
as  if  they  were  about  to  pitch  straight  out  on  their 
faces,  but  recovered  themselves  with  a  knack  learned 
after  many  years  of  practice,  they  straightened  up 
and  shook  hands  with  him.  How  cordial  they  were ; 
how  perfect  was  their  mastery  over  that  smooth 
palaver  which  distinguishes  the  well-bred  man  who 
has  nothing  to  say  and  who  therefore  must  say  it 
well.  An  old  justice  of  the  peace  took  the  agent's 
place  and  acted  as  director  of  ceremonies.  "I  wish 
to  assure  you,"  he  said  to  Hawley,  "that  you  are 
most  welcome.  At  all  times,  sir,  we  stand  ready 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  33 

to  invite  the  infusion  of  new  and  vigorous  blood. 
You  are  from  a  city,  sir,  that  we  greatly  admire, 
and  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  some  of  your 
thoughtless  people  have  perpetuated  Libby 
Prison—" 

"Libby  Prison,"  Hawley  broke  in,  "is  owned  by 
a  man  who  fought  in  the  Confederate  army." 

"Ah,  you  don't  tell  me!  And  if  that  fact  were 
generally  known,  our  trade  with  your  city  would 
be  bigger  than  it  is.  But  that's  no  matter.  We 
welcome  you  most  heartily  and  feel  that  you  will 
become  a  most  useful  citizen.  Just  wait  a  moment." 
Hawley  had  started  into  the  court-house.  "Wait 
a  moment,  sir,  we  are  going  to  cut  a  watermelon." 

The  agent  was  not  dull  to  the  importance  of 
closing  the  trade;  indeed  his  keenness  was  shown 
by  a  reproachful  glance  which  he  shot  at  the  old 
Justice  of  the  peace,  but  the  cutting  of  a  water 
melon,  attended  by  many  ceremonial  flourishes, 
was  a  social  function  not  to  be  interrupted  by  the 
harsh  details  of  a  business  transaction.  The  melon 
was  served  and  a  number  'of  hogs  that  held  the 
foraging  privilege  of  the  neighborhood,  came  across 
the  square  and  devoured  the  rinds.  After  this  the 


34  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

land  transaction  was  again  taken  up.  In  the 
records  held  by  a  dusty  shelf,  not  an  obstructing 
mark  was  found;  the  title  came  down  like  a  clear 
stream  from  a  hill-top;  and  without  searching  for 
a  perplexity,  Hawley  soon  brought  the  deal  to  a 
close. 

At  evening  the  new  owner  of  Ingleview  sat  in 
the  ruined  room  of  the  old  mansion  and  looked 
through  the  vines  at  the  moon.  How  different 
from  his  wonted  evening  gaze  out  upon  the  tangled 
humanity  of  a  thronged  street.  He  heard  the  low 
murmur  of  the  creek,  a  strange  accompaniament  to 
a  negro's  weird  song  that  came  from  somewhere 
away  off  in  the  shadow.  His  commercial  instincts 
lay  asleep,  the  spirit  of  his  father  was  dormant; 
his  gentler  nature  ruled  his  being— the  soul'  of  his 
mother  was  there. 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  next  few  days  were  spent  in  making  arrange 
ments  for  the  improvement  of  the  place.  It  was 
a  time  of  great  excitement  in  the  neighborhood, 
it  was  the  revival  of  business  after  a  long  season 
of  inactivity.  Carpenters,  stonemasons  and  day 
laborers  were  summoned.  It  was  an  industrial 
"boom".  A  number  of  men  were  repairing  a  tumble 
down  place  in  a  stone  wall  that  ran  parallel  with 
the  turnpike,  and  Hawley  was  standing  near  watch 
ing  them,  when  an  old  gentleman  rode  up.  "Here, 
boy,"  he  called,  speaking  to  one  of  the  men,  "hold 
this  horse."  The  man  obeyed;  and  the  old  gen 
tleman,  dismounting,  came  toward  Hawley  with 
his  hand  outstretched. 

"I  am  glad  to  meet  you,  sir,"  said  he  as  Hawley 
took  his  hand.  "I  am  a  neighbor  of  yours.  Trap- 
nell  is  my  name." 

"Judge  Trapnell?" 

"Yes,  sir.  You  will  please  pardon  this  intrusion 
35 


36  A  TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

it  is  not  intended  as  a  formal  visit — but  as  I  was 

passing  I  could  not  help  but  stop  and  ask  you  a 
question  concerning  the  improvements  you  are 
to  make.  And  sir,  it  may'  appear  like  a  piece 
of  impertinence — " 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Hawley,  smiling  at  the  peculiar 
old  gentleman. 

"I  thank  you,  sir.  I  wanted  to  ask  you  if  you 
intended  to  pull  down  any  of  these  old  rock  fences 
and  replace  them  with  barbed  wire  ?" 

"I  had  not  thought  of  such  a  thing,"  Hawley 
answered. 

"You  are  a  gentleman,  sir,"  said  the  Judge, 
bowing.  "A  number  of  our  people  have  done 
this  outlandish  thing,"  he  continued,  wrinkling  his 
brow  with  a  severe  frown.  "They  have  pulled 
down  the  landmarks  of  a  settled  civilization  and 
have  replaced  them  with  a  devilish  and  un-Ameri 
can  contrivance." 

He  took  off  his  white  hat,  an  ancient  and  fuzzy 
"plug,"  and  with  a  red  handkerchief  which  he 
grabbled  out  of  the  crown,  wiped  his  face.  And 
Hawley,  looking  closely  at  him,  thought  that  he 
had  never  seen  a  more  impressive  man.  He  was 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  37 

very  tall  and  exceedingly  spare — no  whiskers,  no 
mustache — shaved  almost  under  the  skin.  His 
complexion  was  red  and  there  were  broken  veins 
in  his  cheeks;  his  "Adam's  apple"  looked  like  a  knot 
tied  in  a  red  comforter;  his  nose  was  large,  thin 
and  of  a  pronounced  Roman  type;  his  hair  was 
white  and  stood  up  straight  in  front;  his  eyes  were 
gray,  steady  of  gaze  and  quick  of  glance.  He 
looked  like  an  old  oil  painting  of  Andrew  Jackson, 
and  his  temperament  yielded  to  this  resemblance. 
He  swore  "By  the  Eternal."  While  a  young  man 
he  had  been  received  by  Jackson,  with  stately 
courtesy  at  the  Hermitage,  and  now  in  his  old  age 
he  worshiped  that  memory  as  a  time  when  he 
had  stood  in  the  presence  of  God's  greatest  crea 
tion. 

"Boy,"  the  Judge  called,  "bring  me  my  horse." 

"You  must  not  go  yet,  Judge,"  Hawley  insisted. 
"It  is  about  noon-time.  Let  us  go  to  the  house 
and  get  something  to  eat." 

"I  should  like  to  go  into  the  old  house  again, 
sir,  and  I  intend  to;  but  I  do  not  wish  to  intrude." 

"There  can  be  no  intrusion,  and  no  embarrass 
ment  if  you  can  put  up  with  my  fare." 


.449679 


38  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"By  the  Eternal,  sir,  I  can  put  up  with  anything. 
I  will  go  with  you." 

They  passed  through  a  gap  in  the  fence,  the 
Judge  leading  his  horse.  "It  has  been  a  long  time 
since  I  was  on  these  grounds,"  he  said  looking 
about  him.  "Old  Radford  and  I  had  a  falling  out 
many  years  ago,  and  I  swore  that  I  would  never 
set  foot  on  this  soil  so  long  as  it  belonged  to  any 
of  his  kin.  There  is  no  doubt  as  to  the  fact  that 
the  trade  is  closed,  is  there?"  he  asked,  halting. 

"None  whatever." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,  sir,"  he  rejoined,  moving  for 
ward  again.  After  a  time  he  said:  "If  I  am  not 
impertinent  in  making  the  request  I  should  like 
you  to  tell  me  what  you  intend  to  do  here." 

"I  am  going  to  repair  the  old  place  and  live  here, 
a  part  of  the  time  at  least.  I  know  that  I  can't 
bring  it  back  to  the  importance  it  once  held,  but 
1  can  make  it  attractive,  at  least  to  me.  I  am  not 
going  to  cut  down  a  single  one  of  these  plum 
thickets;  not  a  stick  of  the  timber  shall  be  touched 
and  the  house  shall  remain  practically  the  same." 

"But  I  suppose  you  will  fix  up  that  end  room 
where  the  wall  is  tumbled  down,"  said  the  Judge. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  39 

"No,  I  am  going  to  let  that  remain  just  the 
same.  No  repair  and  no  adornment  could  change 
it  for  the  better.  I  don't  know  what  its  memories 
are,  but — " 

"By  the  Eternal!"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  halting, 
"one  of  its  memories  is  this — old  Andrew  Jackson 
slept  in  it.  And  you  are  not  going  to  disturb  it. 
Mr.  Hawley,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  and 
bending  over  when  Hawley  grasped  it,  "I  can  say, 
sir,  with  a  deep  feeling  of  truth  that  I  welcome 
you  to  this  neighborhood." 

They  strolled  on  again  and  the  Judge  continued: 
"There  are  very  few  people  here  that  are  worth 
knowing,  sir.  The  young  crop  is  a  worthless  set 
in  comparison  with  these  that  are  gone.  As  you 
doubtless  know  the  world  has  fallen  into  decay. 
There  is  here  and  there  a  struggling  remnant  of 
worth,  but  the  average  man  is  a  fool." 

"Ah,  but  hasn't  man  in  every  age  said  the  same 
thing,  Judge?" 

"Man  has  said  many  things  in  every  age,  sir, 
and  the  average  man  in  every  age  has  been  a  liar. 
But  I  speak  from  facts.  Where  are  your  great 
men  now?  Point  them  out,  will  you?  There  are 


4O  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

talkative  men  and  fussy  men  but  the  great  men 
are  dead.  Why,  we  have  no  man  now  as  great  as 
Henry  Clay,  even,  and  in  comparison  with  Jackson 
Henry  Clay  was  a  mere  trumpeter.  The  great 
men  are  dead,  sir,  and  the  world  is  dying.  When 
I  say  the  world,  I  mean  this  country,  for  this  is 
the  only  part  of  the  world  that  ever  was  worth 
living  in.  Ah,  and  suppose  Andrew  Jackson  could 
have  had  a  real  successor.  Would  there  have 
been  any  war?  No,  sir.  Rebellion  would  not 
have  dared  to  lift  its  head — by  the  Eternal,  sir,  it 
would  have  been  afraid  to  lick  out  its  tongue.  I 
was  a  Union  man  because  I  knew  that  Jackson 
would  have  been  a  Union  man,  and  I  remained  one 
long  after  our  boys  went  into  the  Confederate 
army.  And  I  should  always  have  remained  true 
to  the  cause  if  a  lot  of  foreign  hirelings  hadn't 
come  down  upon  us  and  destroyed  our  homes. 
But  let  that  go.  I  am  heartily  glad  as  I  said  be 
fore  that  you  have  .come  among  us.  You  are  a 
man  of  sentiment  and  are  therefore  a  gentleman. 
But  I  had  my  doubts  when  I  heard  that  you  were 
from  Chicago,  a  town  that  respects  nothing  old  or 
venerable." 


A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE  41 

"Have  you  ever  visited  Chicago,  Judge?" 

"No,  sir,  and  I  never  intend  to.  There  is  a  close 
kinship  between  New  York  and  this  part  of  the 
country,  but  we  care  nothing  for  your  up-start  city. 
It  is  an  interloper,  sir;  it  is  a  thief  that  came  in 
the  night." 

"It  is  the  home  of  my  birth,  Judge,  and  it  holds 
many  a  tender  memory  for  me." 

"I  beg  pardon,"  said  the  old  man.  "Indeed,  sir, 
it  is  so  new  a  place  that  I  didn't  think  that  it  was 
the  home  of  anybody's  birth.  It  seems  to  me  but 
yesterday  since  I  first  heard  of  it.  I  am  old  sir, 
and  harsh;  you  must  excuse  me.  We  turn  this 
way,  eh  ?  It  has  been  many  a  day  since  I  strolled 
through  here.  But  I  have  wanted  to.  Great  men 
have  trod  this  ground;  great  political  deliberations 
have  been  conducted  under  these  trees.  Right 
over  there,  sir,  under  that  oak,  it  was  once  agreed 
that  I  should  take  a  place  on  the  supreme  bench 
of  my  state." 

"And  were  you  elected?" 

"I  was  sold  like  a  bullock.  That  was  before  the 
war.  We  met  here  in  a  sort  of  caucus.  I  was 
the  choice;  the  ambition  of  my  life  was  about  to 


42  A  TENNESSEE  JUDGE 

be  realized.  The  convention  met  in  Nashville  the 
next  day.  Then  a  vile  scoundrel  sold  me  out- 
knocked  me  down  to  the  highest  bidder.  He  had 
been  close  to  me;  he  knew  my  aspirations.  I  lost 
the  nomination,  and  I  was  determined  that  he 
should  lose  his  blood.  And  by  the  Eternal,  sir, 
he  shall  if  he  lives  long  enough  for  me  to  meet 
him." 

"Why,  how  long  ago  did  you  say  it  was?" 
Hawley  asked. 

"It  was  before  the  war,  sir." 

"And  you  haven't  met  him  since." 

"No,  he  slunk  out  of  my  sight  under  the  cover 
of  darkness  and  I  haven't  set  eyes  on  him  from 
that  day  to  this;  but  if  ever  I  do,  I  will  have  his 
blood.  Time  has  no  influence  upon  the  hatred  I 
bear  that  man;  that  hatred  has  no  yesterday 
and  no  to-morrow;  it  lives  in  an  eternal  now.  I 
understood  that  he  went  over  into  Williamson 
county,  having  known  or  indeed  having  felt  that  I 
would  kill  him,  and  took  up  his  residence  there, 
but  be  that  as  it  may,  he  never  came  back  into 
this  county  again.  A  number  of  years  ago  a  son- 
in-law  of  his — one  that  lives  in  this  county — came 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  43 

to  see  me.  He  spoke  of  the  old  times  and  of  the 
enmities  they  engendered  and  thus  led  me  on  to 
my  trouble  with  his  wife's  father.  He  lamented  the 
many  changes  that  had  taken  place,  and  finally 
he  asked  me  what  I  would  do  if  his  father-in-law 
should  come  back  here  to  live.  I  told  him  that 
the  old  man  had  a  right  to  choose  his  residence, 
but  that  my  vengeance  had  not  perished  with  the 
numerous  things  that  had  passed  away,  and  that 
if  ever  I  should  meet  him  I  would  surely  spill  his 
blood.  He  knew  that  I  meant  it,  and  since  then 
I  have  heard  nothing  that  hinted  at  the  old 
scoundrel's  intentions.  The  man  of  to-day,  sir, 
the  man  of  your  city  might  permit  new  and  vulgar 
interests  to  cover  up  so  old  a  resentment,  but  to 
me  there  is  no  forgiveness  for  such  an  injury.  Did 
Jackson  ever  forgive?  Does  nature  ever  forgive? 
Then  why  as  a  follower  of  Jackson  and  as  an  off 
shoot  of  nature  should  I  be  expected  to  forgive?  I 
am  not  going  to  hunt  for  Old  Gordon  P.  Hensley, 
for  that  would  be  murder;  but  if  ever  we  meet, 
one  of  us  dies.  There  now,  I  have  shown  you  my 
prejudices;  have  done  this  so  that  I  might  not 
be  taking  any  advantage  ol  your  hospitality.  Do 
you  still  invite  me  to  your  house,  sir?" 


44  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

Hawley  laughed.  "If  I  had  not  done  so  before," 
said  he,  "I  assuredly  would  ask  you  now.  In  many 
respects  I  am  as  ignorant  as  a  pig.  I  know  Chicago's 
present  but  I  don't  know  Tennessee's  past;  and  it 
is  refreshing  to  meet  you.  I  should  think  that  all 
men  must  admire  the  old-time  American.  No 
matter  how  far  wrong  he  might  have  been,  he  be 
lieved  that  he  was  right.  He  knew  but  one  country 
and  imitated  no  man;  he  was  brave  and  who  can 
help  admiring  him  for  that?" 

The  old  man's  eyes  shot  a  quick  side  glance  at 
him.  "I  thank  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Yonder  comes  a  strange  man,"  Hawley  re 
marked,  inclining  his  head  toward  a  point  where 
the  road  wound  about  a  thick  clump  of  bushes. 

"Who  is  he,  sir?  I  don't  think  that  I  can 
recognize  him  at  this  distance." 

"An  old  man  who  introduced  himself  as  Dr. 
Moffet." 

"Hah,  isn't  he  dead  yet?  Of  course  I  knew 
that  he  wasn't  dead  but  I  haven't  seen  him  in  a 
long  time." 

"Why,  the  other  day  he  remarked  that  he  and 
you  had  been  talking  about  me." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  45 

"He  is  simply  a  poor  old  liar,  Mr.  Hawley.  He 
has  eaten  morphine  until  he  doesn't  know  what  he 
says." 

The  Doctor  came  toward  them,  his  gray  overcoat 
drawn  about  his  shoulders.  "Gentlemen,  this  is 
indeed  a  pleasant  surprise,"  said  he.  "Judge,  I 
am  happy  to  see  you,  and  especially  so  to  see  that 
you  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  distin 
guished  Mr.  Hawley."  He  halted  and  shook  hands 
with  Hawley  and  the  Judge.  "Professor  Barrow 
and  I  have  just  been  talking  about  both  of  you. 
Any  news  going  on  in  town?  I  leave  home  so 
seldom  that  I  rarely  hear  anything.  And  I  can't 
read  the  newspapers,  for  as  you  know,  Judge,  they 
are  not  what  they  used  to  be.  There  was  a  time 
when  the  newspapers  in  this  country  were  alive  to 
the  interests  of  our  people,  but  now  they  deal 
mainly  in  foreign  affairs  and  are  of  no  use  to  us. 
Judge,  you  haven't  been  over  lately." 

" Lately !"  exclaimed  the  Judge.  " By  the  Eternal, 
this  is  the  first  time  I  have  been  here  in  twenty-five 
years." 

"Ah,  I  really  didn't  think  it  had  been  so  long  as 
that." 


46  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Doctor,"  said  Hawley,  "we  are  on  our  way  to 
dinner.  -Won't  you  come  and  eat  with  us?" 

"No,  I  thank  you.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't 
eat  enough  to  keep  a  chicken  alive.  I  wish  you  a 
very  good  day,  gentlemen." 

"Poor  old  fellow,"  said  the  Judge  as  they  walked 
along.  "Years  ago  he  was  one  of  the  brightest 
young  men  in  this  community,  but  he  fell  a  victim 
to  morphine  and  since  that  time  he  has  been  worth 
less.  You  remember  that  he  spoke  of  Professor 
Barrow.  He  is  another  instance  of  intellect  gone 
wrong,  though  not  through  morphine  or  liquor  or 
any  other  agency  that  any  one  has  discovered.  He 
was  well  educated  and  was  to  take  the  chair  of 
moral  philosophy  in  the  Bledsoe  University,  a  seat 
of  learning  to  be  established  about  five  miles  from 
here.  I  don't  think  that  the  foundation  stones  of 
the  institution  were  more  than  laid  when  the  war 
put  a  stop  to  further  progress.  Young  Barrow  had 
put  his  heart  and  all  his  money  into  the  enterprise, 
and  his  thoughts  were  not  set  adrift  by  the  military 
spirit  that  stirred  the  land.  He  tried  to  raise  money 
to  continue  the  work  but  was  laughed  at;  he  went 
about  preaching  his  so-called  moral  philosophy 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  47 

until  his  mental  system  was  unsettled  an  he  has 
never  been  right  since.  He  lives  in  a  cabin  over 
on  the  east  side  of  your  farm  and  like  the  doctor, 
he  is  one  of  your  charges." 

"Why,  what  sort  of  a  nest  of  cranks  have  I  got 
into,"  said  Hawley. 

"A  nest  of  cranks  surely,"  replied  the  Judge, 
"but  they  are  harmless  and  it  is  easier  to  keep 
them  than  to  get  rid  of  them.  They'll  not  be  in 
the  way  and  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  let  them 
remain  where  they  are." 

"I  suppose  so,"  Hawley  rejoined. 

They  passed  along  what  had  once  been  an  osage 
hedge  but  which,  neglected  so  many  years,  had 
become  a  row  of  ragged  trees.  They  were  near  the 
house  and  could  hear  the  old  negro  woman  singing  in 
the  yard.  They  passed  through  a  gap  in  a  thick  row 
of  althea  bushes.  The  old  woman,  with  her  hands 
on  her  hips,  slowly  advanced  to  meet  them. 

"W'y  bless  my  life,  ef  dis  ain'  Jedge  Trapnell!" 
she  exclaimed.  "Why,  who  'spected  ter  see  you 
yere,  Jedge?  I  declar  I  ain't  been  so  upset  in  er 
laung  time.  Why,  how's  Miss  Mandy  an'  Miss 
Ida?  I  ain'  been  over  dar  in  some  time  an'  I  reckon 


48  A  TENNESSEE  JUDGE 

dat  chile  is  mos'  grown.  Bless  my  life,  it  do  me 
good  ter  see  you.  Puts  me  in  mine  o'  de  time  w'en 
folks  uster  make  speeches  at  dem  barbacues.  But 
I  wush  you  had  er  come  er  little  sooner,  fur 
dinner's  been  done  some  time,  an'  it's  gittin'  sorter 
col'  now,  I'se  er  feerd.  Dat  triflin'  Ben  went  off 
an'  did'n  leave  me  er  nuff  wood,  no  how." 

"Isn't  that  trifling  scoundrel  dead  yet,  Aunt 
Lily  ?"  the  Judge  asked. 

"Oh,  no  sah,  he  am'  wuth  dyin'.  Steer  run 
agin  him  las'  fall  an'  jammed  him  ergin  de  fence 
an'  we  all  lowed  he  gwine  die,  but  de  fust  thing  I 
knowd  he  dun  crawled  outen  de  house  an'  wuz 
settin'  un'er  er  tree  chawin'  er  hunk  o*  braid. 
No,  sah,  you  kain  kill  'im  but  he  am'  wuth  bis 
salt." 

"Who  is  this  Ben?"  Hawley  asked. 

"Why  ain'  I  dun  tole  you  'bout  him?  'Deed  I 
thought  I  had.  He's  myhusbun',  sah,  an'  he  ain' 
no  manner  er  count.  But  come  right  on  ter  dinner. 
Kain  speck  vidults  ter  be  good  w'en  you  put  off 
eatin'  dis  way.  Dat  'Fesser  Bar  been  setten'  roun' 
yere  like  it  wuz  all  he  coul'  do  ter  keephisse'f  fum 
jumpin'  right  straddle  o'  de  table.  Dat  pusson 


A  TENNESSEE  JUDGE  49 

pears  ter  be  haungry  all  de  time.  Jedge,  I'll  hitch 
yo"  boss,  sah.n 

The  dining-room  was  long  and  broad,  and 
although  its  general  appearance  was  rather  bleak, 
yet  in  detail  it  discovered  here  and  there  a  pretense 
to  luxury.  The  pannelling  was  of  black  walnut 
and  the  floor,  which  ever  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
newly  waxed,  was  laid  in  narrow  strips  of  sweet 
gum. 

When  Hawley  and  the  Judge  entered  the  room, 
a  blear-eyed  and  grizzle-bearded  man  got  up  from 
a  chair  near  the  further  door  and  advanced  to  meet 
them.  "I  hope  that  my  sitting  here  has  been  un 
objectionable,  gentlemen.  This  is  Mr.  Hawley,  I 
presume,  and  this  I  am  happy  to  see  is  Judge 
TrapnelL  It  may  be  necessary  to  tell  you,  Mr. 
Hawley,  but  it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  the  Judge, 
that  I  am  Professor  Barrow,  of  the  Bledsoe  Univer 
sity.  I  held  the  chair  of  moral  philosophy  in  that 
famous  institution.  Gentlemen,  may  I  presume 
to  shake  hands  with  you?" 

They  shook  hands  with  him  and  just  then  they 
heard  the  negro  woman's  voice,  commanding  them 
to  sit  down  and  help  themelves.  She  entered  with 

4 


50  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

the  air  of  one  upon  whom  great  responsible ; 
rested;  she  gave  the  Professor  a  look  of  no  com 
plimentary  meaning;  she  apologized  for  the  disor 
der  into  which  everything  had  fallen  and  in  solemn 
tones  spoke  a  regret  that  she  had  not  known  that 
company  was  coming.  She  was  a  great,  coarse 
creature,  but  what  a  depth  of  music  was  in  her 
voice,  how  gentle  was  her  touch  and  how  easily 
everything  appeared  to  yield  to  it. 

"Mr.  Hawley,"  said  the  Professor,  "you  may  not' 
know  it  as  yet,  but  I  am  one  of  your  honored 
tenants.  And  I  have  come  over  to-day,  sir,  to 
express  the  hope  that  our  relationship  may  con 
tinue.  The  truth  is,  sir.  that  an  old  scholar  looks 
with  dread  upon  any  sort  of  change.  The  promise 
of  a  splendid  domicile  could  not  tempt  me  to  leave 
my  present  modest  abode,  and  I  earnestly  trust 
that  you  may  permit  me  to  reside  there.  My  eyes 
are  turned  in  but  one  direction — the  past.  I  shall 
not  be  in  your  way;  I  shall  ask  you  for  no  susti- 
nence.  A  relation  of  mine  provides  me  with  food 
and  raiment;  and  all  I  dare  ask  of  you  is  to  permit 
me  to  remain  under  a  roof  that  has  become  dear 
to  me.  As  a  business  transaction,  I  am  forced  to 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  51 

• 

confide  to  you  the  fact  that  such  an  arrangement 
may  not  redound  to  your  advantage,  but  I  have 
dared  to  encourage  the  hope  that  you  may,  on  this 
occasion,  overlook  your  commercial — " 

"I  don't  think  that  I  shall  need  your  house, 
Professor,"  Hawley  broke  in. 

"Really,  sir,  to  hear  you  say  so  gives  me  great 
delight.  Let  me  help  you  to  another  piece  of  the 
chicken,"  he  added,  assuming  the  place  of  host. 
The  Judge  shot  a  glance  at  Hawley;  Hawley  looked 
quickly  at  him  and  caught  the  fading  light  of  a  dry, 
sarcastic  smile.  A  silence  followed.  The  Pro 
fessor  ate  ravenously,  and  then  shoving  himself 
from  the  table,  said:  "Will  you  gentlemen  indulge 
me  to  the  further  extent  of  granting  a  pardon  for 
my  hasty  withdrawal?  The  truth  is  I  have  be 
thought  me  of  an  idea  and  must  needs  return  home 
and  work  it  out.  Judge,  I  wish  you  a  very  good 
day;  and  to  you,  Mr.  Hawley,  I  must  express  my 
most  profound  gratitude.  This  is  the  hurried  age 
of  the  world,  and  at  a  time  of  such  quickness  and 
expected -brusqueness,  it  is  rare  that  we  meet  with 
so  humane  a  courtesy  as  that  which  you  have  exten 
ded  to  me.  Gentlemen,  I  wish  you  both  gootf  day." 


52  A  TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

The  Professor  took  up  a  cudgel,  with   which    he 
always  went  armed,  bowed  and  strode  out. 

"It  appears  that  this  place  has    been  run  merely 
as  an  asylum  for  cranks,"  said  Hawley. 

The  Judge  laughed  in  a  dry  way,  in  a  way  more 
expressive  of  courtesy  than  of  mirth,  and  thus 
replied:  "These  poor  people  you  might  say  are 
the  bats  and  owls  of  society.  But,  sir,  we  should 
have  sympathy  even  for  a  bat  and  an  owl.  How- 
•ever,  it  does  look  a  little  hard  that  you  should  ex 
ercise  all  the  sympathy.  In  reality  these  people 
believe  that  their  right  to  the  place  is  as  strong  as 
yours.  They  are  the  weeds  growing  upon  the  walls 
•of  our  crumbling  institutions.  A  good  many  years 
ago  a  man  rode  up  to  my  house  and  asked  if  he 
might  stay  over  night  with  us.  Of  course  his 
request  was  granted.  During  a  talk  that  followed 
it  developed  that  he  was  acquainted  with  a  number 
of  my  people  in  North  Carolina,  How  long  do 
you  suppose  he  stayed  at  my  house  ?" 

"Well,  the  fact  that  he  knew  some  of  your  people 
warranted  his  staying  at  least  a  week." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  "yes,    sir,    he    stayed 
until  he  died,  ten  years  later,     That's  the    way  it 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  53 

used  to  be  in  the  South.  When  a  man  rode  up  to 
the  gate  you  didn't  know  whether  he  was  going  to 
stay  ten  minutes  or  fifteen  years." 

"And  yet,  Judge,  such  impositions,  as  you  now 
look  back  upon  them,  do  not  seem  to  blight  the 
endearment  of  those  old  days." 

"Not  in  the  least,  sir,  for  they  were  the  only 
days  worth  living  in.  They  were  days  of  plenty 
and  of  sociability.  Our  houses  were  roomy  and 
the  size  of  a  family  made  no  particular  difference." 

"And,"  said  Hawley,  "the  days  of  ease  and 
quiet  don't  seem  yet  to  be  gone  forever.  In  town 
I  was  struck  with  the  restfulness  and  the  content 
ment  of  the  men  who  sat  about  the  court-house." 

"Yes,  sir,  doubtless  a  unique  picture  to  a  man 
from  the  hurried  walks  of  life,  but  perfectly  natural 
here.  The  court-house-hanger-on  is  not  charac 
teristic,  though,  to  one  town  but  is  representative 
of  the  entire  South.  Indeed,  I  might  say  of  the 
entire  country.  But  tell  me,  sir;  do  you  intend 
to  breed  race  horses?" 

"No,  but  I  am  going  to  stock  the  place  with  fine 
cattle." 

"That's  sensible  unless  you  have  a   passion  for 


54  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

fast  horses.  I  doubt,  though,  whether  you  can 
bring  this  farm  back  to  its  former  standard.  The 
famous  trainers  are  dead  and  the  breed  of  horses 
has  degenerated." 

"Ah,  but  horses  now  are  faster  than  ever  before." 

The  Judge  threw  up  his  head  and  gazed  at 
Hawley.  "The  newspapers  say  so  but  it  is  not  a  fact. 
There  are  no  such  horses  now  as  Hiawatha;  and 
the  equal  of  old  Gray  Eagle  has  never  been  seen." 

"To  tell  you  the  truth,  Judge,  I  don't  know 
very  much  about  race  horses." 

"I  should  think  not,  sir." 

How  stubbornly  did  the  prejudices  of  the  past 
qit  themselves  against  this  young  man,  and  how 
gentle  he  was  in  the  humoring  of  them.  And  not 
until  this  moment  had  he  supposed  that  graceful 
submission  to  a  palpable  error  lay  within  the 
province  of  a  Chicagoan,  He  would  have  wrangled 
with  his  friend,  Dr.  Ford,  but  he  felt  a  strange, 
humoring  sympathy  for  this  old  man.  How  wide 
awake  and  shrewd  he  must  have  been  when  states 
rights  were  in  their  glory,  but  how  narrow  now 
since  many  a  myth  had  faded  in  the  light  of  a 
truth-seeking  day. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  55 

"Mr.  Havvley,  said  the  Judge,  "my  farm  is  not  far 
from  here.  By  the  pike  you  go  toward  town  to 
the  bridge,  then  take  the  Nashville  pike.  That 
way,  it  is  about  three  miles,  but  take  the  path 
across  the  fields  and  through  the  woods,  and  it 
isn't  more  than  a  mile.  I  shall  be  greatly  pleased 
to  see  you  at  my  house,  and  I  feel  that  we  shall 
become  good  neighbors.  I  cannot  well  express  to 
you  how  this  visit  to-day  has  affected  me.  I  feel 
as  one  who  has  returned  after  a  long  banishment, 
and  I  have  spoken  to  you  with  a  freedom  hardly 
warranted  in  addressing  a  stranger.  I  have  told 
you  of  a  hate  that  I  carry  in  my  bosom,  and  this 
I  should  not  have  done.  But  the  man  who  keeps 
his  emotions  and  his  impulses  under  too  much 
control,  is  a  hypocrite.  I  must  ask  you,  though, 
not  to  mention  to  any  one  that  I  told  you  of  my 
trouble  with  Gordon  P.  Henseley.  Years  have 
passed  since  I  spoke  of  him,  but  to-day,  sir,  I  have 
been  walking  the  backward  path.  Would  it  be 
against  your  religious  scruples,  sir,  to  dine  with 
me  next  Sunday?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  I  don't  know  that  I  have 
any  religious  scruples.  I'm  sure  that  I  have  no 
religious  carpings." 


56  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Well  said,  sir;  well  said.  Then  I  shall  expect 
you  next  Sunday.  And  at  twelve  o'clock,  mind 
you.  We  eat  dinner  at  an  American  hour.  Aunt 
Lily,"  he  shouted,  arising,  "bring  my  horse  to  the 
door." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Early  Sunday  morning  while  Hawley  lay  in  that 
state  of  drowsiness  which  luxuriates  in  the  dreamy 
valley  between  sleep  and  a  knowledge  of  surround 
ings,  Aunt  Lily's  voice  aroused  him.  "Breckfus  is 
dun  ready,"  she  said,  tapping  on  the  door.  "You 
didn'  tell  me  not  ter  hab  breckfus  Sundays  de  same 
ez  udder  days  an'  I  sorter  had  ter  take  mer 
chances;  but  it  dun  ready  now,  an'  lessen  you 
want  it  ter  git  coP  you  better  come  on." 

When  Hawley  entered  the  breakfast-room,  the 
old  woman  was  standing  near  the  table,  and  with 
a  peach  tree  bough  she  was  keeping  off  the  flies. 

"I  must  get  some  screens  for  this  house,  "said  he. 

"Law,     chile,    whut    you    want    wid    screens?" 

"To  keep  the  flies  out." 

"Ain't  I  keepin'  'em  out?" 

"Yes,  but  it's  too  much  trouble." 

"Not  fur  me  caze  I  been  doin'  it  too  many  years, 

now;   an'  I  doan  know  bout  dem  screens,  no  how. 

57 


58  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

But  set  right  down  caze  deze  vidults  is  gittin  col'. 
I  doan  know  dat  I  cooks  jest  ter  suit  you  ur  not, 
sah,  but  ef  I  doan  tell  me  so  an1  I'll  1'arn  how.  I 
yere  'em  say  de  cookin'  in  dis  country  doan  suit 
folks  fum  de  Nawf,  an'  I  jes  wanter  tell  you  dat  I 
stan's  yere  ready  ter  change  my  cou'se." 

"Your  cooking  is  all  right,"  Hawley  replied.  But 
the  old  woman's  suspicion  was  aroused  when  he 
added:  "After  a  while  I  may  get  someone  to  help 
you." 

"I  doan  wan'  nobody  fussin'  roun'  tryin'  ter  he'p 
me,  sah,"  she  quickly  rejoined. 

"I  won't  let  any  one  interfere  with  you,  Aunt 
Lily." 

"I  thanks  you  fur  sayin'  dat,  de  Lawd  knows." 

"By  the  way,"  said  Hawley,  smiling  at  her, 
"you  don't  resemble  the  lily  that  Solomon  spoke 
of,  for  you  toil  and  I  think  I've  heard  your  spin 
ning  wheel." 

The  old  woman  shook  her  fat  sides  with  laughter. 
"Now  you  ain'  gwine  joke  me  'bout  my  name,  is 
you?  White  folks  been  pesterin'  me  'bout  my 
name  all  my  life.  My  young  mistis  named  me, 
sah.  An'  I  reckon  her  haid  wuz  mighty  full  o' 


59 

nonsense  at  de  time.  Dar's  my  triflin  husbund 
out  dar  now.  See  im  settin'  under  dat  tree?" 

Hawley  looked  out  and  saw  a  short,  bow-legged 
negro  dozing  on  a  bench.  "He's  er  putty  lookin' 
speciment  fur  er  pusson  ter  be  tied  up  wid,  ain't 
he?  But  does  you  know  dat  man's  er  doctor?  He  is." 

"Not  a  regular  doctor,  is  he?" 

"I  doan  know  how  regular  he  is,  sah,  but  he's  er 
doctor.  He  goes  out  in  de  woods  an'  digs*  up 
yarbs,  an'  I  has  yearn  folks  say  dat  dar  is  some 
zeazes  dat  kain'  git  er  way  fum  'im  no  way  you 
kin  fix  it.  But  not  laung  ergo  one  o'  his  sick  folks 
died  an'  it  wuz  sorter  hinted  'roun'  dat  Ben  pizened 
'im,  but  not  on  purpose.  Dat  Dr.  Moffet  an'  'im 
do  hab  some  awful  quarls,  Yander  comes  Dr. 
Moffet  now." 

The  doctor  came  through  the  althea  bushes, 
halted  for  a  moment  when  he  spied  old  Ben  dozing 
and  then  sat  down  on  the  further  end  of  the  bench. 
Ben  looked  up  and  demanded:  "Whut  you  wanter 
come  'ruptin'  er  man,  fur?" 

"I'm  not  interrupting  you,  you  black  rascal." 

"I  'knowledges  dat  I'se  black,  but  I  ain'  no 
rascal.  I'se  er  man  o'  science." 


60  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Science!"  the  Doctor  contemptuously  repeated. 
"You  couldn't  read  your  name  if  you  were  to  see 
it  in  letters  a  yard  long." 

"I  doan  kere  nutin'  'bout  dat ;  I  doan  kere  nuthin' 
'bout  letters  er  yard  laung — I'm  er  science,  all  de 
same.  Man  has  de  rheumatiz  an'  I  fetches  out 
mer  medicine  an'  'e  drinks  some  o'  hit  an'  I  rubs 
'im  wid  some  o'  hit;  an'  den  whut?  de  man  walks 
on  off,  'joycin'.  But  whut  do  'e  do  ef  you  comes 
ter  see  'im?  Hah,  whut  do  'e  do  den?  He  lays 
dar  in  de  bed  an'  mebby  'e  neber  do  git  up." 

"But  what  about  Sam  Norris?" 

"Oh,  dat  nigger?     'E  didn'  hab  no  rheumatiz." 

"Ah,  but  you  killed  him." 

"Who  killed  'im." 

"You  did,  you  black  butcher." 

"I  didn'  kill  de  man.  De  Lawd  killed  'im. 
Lawd  seed  dat  it  wuz  de  man's  time  ter  go — jes' 
happened  ter  ricolleck  dat  it  wuz  'is  time  ter  go 
an'  'E  tuck  'im.  I  ain1  'sponsible  fur  whut  de 
Lawd  do.  Ef  de  Lawd  wants  er  man  ter  git  well, 
my  medicine  cures  'im;  an'  ef  de  Lawd  doan 
wan'  'im  ter  git  well,  nobody's  medicine  ain' 
gwine  do  'im  no  good." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  6l 

"I've  told  you  a  dozen  times  to  leave  this  place; 
you've  got  no  right  here." 

"Got  ez  much  right  yere  ezyou  has.  Science  is 
got  er  right  most  anywhar." 

"Well,  I'm  going  to  see  Mr.  Hawley  and — "  • 

"'E's  right  dar  in  de  house,  I  reckon;  you  better 
see  'im  now." 

"Here,"  said  Hawley,  stepping  out  into  the  yard, 
"I  don't  want  any  quarreling  on  this  place." 

"Dat's  whut  I  been  tellin'  dis  generman,  sah, 
all  de  time,"  old  Ben  declared.  "S'  I  'dar's  er 
monstus  fine  pusson  got  dis  place  now  an'  'e  doan 
wan'  no  jowerin'." 

"Mr.  Hawley,"  said  the  Doctor,  getting  up  and 
bowing  low,  "I  am  delighted  to  see  you  this  morn 
ing,  sir.  It  is  a  beautiful  day.  I  was  just  over  by 
the  old  race  track — a  lovely  place — with  a  wild 
flower  here  and  there  to  shed  a  mourning  fragrance 
over  its  lost  glory." 

"Won't  you  come  into  breakfast,  Doctor?" 

"No,  I  thank  you.  I  scarcely  eat  enough,  sir, 
to  keep  a  chicken  alive.  What  are  you  snorting 
at!"  he  demanded,  turning  upon  the  negro. 

"Gracious  er  live,  has  it  come  ter  er  p'int  w'en 


$2  A  TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

er  pusson  ain'  got  er  right  ter  smile?  Mr.  Hawley, 
doat  pay  no  'tention  ter  dis  white  pusson,  sah, 
caze  'e  ain'  right  bright  in  'is  mine." 

"I  don't  want  any  such  talk  as  that,"  said  Haw- 
ley,  laughing  in  spite  of  all  effort  to  restrain  him 
self. 

"No,  sah,  an'  you  ain'  gwine  git  it,  nuther. 
Caze  lemme  tell  you  right  now  dat  whateber  you 
wants  done  is  law  wid  me.  I'se  been  down  ter  de 
stable  dis  mawnin'  er  workin'  hard  er  takin'  kere 
o'  dem  new  bosses  o'  yourn;  an'  ef  you'll  jest  let 
me  stay  yere  along  wid  dat  ole  wife  o'  mine,  dar 
ain'  nuthin'  dat  I  ain'  gwine  do  fur  you.  I  gwine 
clean  out  de  well  dis  day." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  work  on  Sunday." 

"Dat's  er  fack,  dis  is  Sunday.  I  clar  I  so  busy 
dat  I  dun  furgot  de  day  o'  de  week.  But  I  gwine 
hump  merse'f  ter  mor.  An'  say;  w'en  you  runs 
fur  office,  jes'  let  me  know.  I  kin  pull  an'  haul 
deze  niggers  er  'roun  like  da  wan'  nuthin'  but  er 
rag  kyarpet.  Wall,  I  mus'  go  an'  be  er  layin'  out 
my  plans." 

"I  wants  you  ter  chop  some  wood  'fo'  you  goes," 
his  wife  called. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  63 

"Honey,  dat  wuz  on  my  mine  dis  minit.  Yas, 
I'll  chop  all  de  wood  you  wan'.  Skuze  me,  sah," 
he  added,  speaking  to  Hawley,  "but  whut  is  yo' 
fust  name?" 

"Robert,"  Hawley  answered. 

"Ah,  hah,  an'  does  you  wan'  me  ter  call  you 
Mars  Bob?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Wall,  ef  you  doan'  I  won';  but  I'se  mighty 
tempted  ter.  Wall,  good  mawnin',  Marse  Bob— 
dar,  I  dun  furgit  merse'f.  Skuze  me  dis  time  but 
I  does  feel  mighty  wa'm  toward  you." 

Ben  hastened  away  as  if  upon  an  important 
errand,  Aunt  Lily  turned  to  her  household  duties . 
and  Hawley  went  out  and  sat  on  the  bench.  It 
was  still  early  and  dew  drops  clinging  to  the  rose 
bushes,  flashed  off  miniature  photographs  of  the 
sun.  The  shrivelled  old  Doctor  sat  in  the  fervid 
light,  with  his  overcoat  drawn  about  him.  Hawley 
lighted  a  cigar,  half  musingly,  and  then,  arousing 
himself,  said:  "Have  a  cigar.  Pardon  me  for 
not  offering  you  one  sooner." 

The  Doctor  bowed  and  took  the  cigar.  They 
smoked  in  silence.  But  the  proprietor  of  Ingleview 


64  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

did  not  know  what  an  effort  that  silence  cost  the 
Doctor;  he  did  not  realize  that  the  morphine  eater's 
reserve  required  his  strongest  exercise  of  will.  The 
young  man  felt  a  sense  of  loneliness.  Had  the 
romance,  'the  freshness  of  this  old  place  so 
soon  begun  to  fade?  Was  he  holding  dear  the 
remembered  roar  of  Chicago?  The  Doctor  looked 
at  him,  their  eyes  met;  and  a  sudden  revulsion 
overcame  Hawley's  pity  for  that  withered  creature. 
He  looked  like  a  sneak,  a  malicious  gossip.  But 
he  coughed — a  hollow  echo  sent  back  the  land  of 
the  dead — and  the  strong  man's  pity  was  alive 
again. 

"I'm  going  into  the  library  to  see  what  books 
have  fallen  into  my  keeping," said  Hawley.  "Won't 
you  come  along?" 

"No,  I  thank  you.  I  must  go  to  my  lowly 
abode." 

Hawley  could  have  thanked  him  for  this,  but  he 
did  not ;  he  mumbled  a  regret,  fearing  the  while 
that  the  Doctor  might  decide  to  go  with  him,  and 
then  rather  hastily  he  entered  the  house.  A  man  that 
had  spent  much  of  his  life  among  books  would 
have  laughed  at  this  library.  There  were  numerous 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  65 

volumes  of  light  romances,  all  English,  all  teeming 
with  lords  and  ladies,  with  not  a  glimpse  of  actual 
life  as  it  once  existed  or  as  it  is  likely  ever  to  exist. 
But  there  was  a  religious  streak  running  from 
top  to  bottom.  Tempestuous  tracts  conceived 
in  hot  and  passionate  enmity  to  Catholicism 
and  indeed  toward  all  forms  of  religion  save  the 
one  bigoted  creed  of  the  writer  thereof,  were 
piled  here. and  there,  covered  with  dust,  the  dry 
mockery  of  old  Earth.  Amid  this  rubbish  of  fiction 
and  fanaticism,  Hawley  found  a  book  that  must  have 
been  greatly  cherished  in  its  day;  a  large  volume 
for  the  most  part  taken  up  with  colored  plates  of 
race  horses.  How  well  thumbed  it  was;  how 
smeared  with  the  eager  hands  of  childhood.  And 
what  signs  of  rivalry  in  ownership  were  found. 
Below  the  plate  of  one  fleet-looking  racer  were  these 
words,  dim,  yellowed:  "This  here  is  Tom's  hoss;" 
and  beneath  them  was  scrawled:  "No  he  ain't; 
he's  Jim's."  A  Webster's  spelling  book  fell  to  the 
floor  and  flew  open  at  the  picture  of  the  old  man 
pelting  the  youngster  that  had  refused  to  come 
down  out  of  the  tree;  and  then  there  tumbled  down 
an  old  novel,  "The  Planter's  Northern  Bride." 

5 


66  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

With  what  a  sniff  of  contempt  the  abolitonists  had 
turned  from  it,  but  how  devoted  was  the  slave 
owner  to  its  high-flown  pages.  It  etherialized,  it 
consecrated  human  bondage;  it  darkly  frowned 
upon  the  earthly  aspiration  of  black  flesh;  it  told 
the  negro  that  his  glory  in  the  world  to  come  de 
pended  upon  his  meekness  here.  Abraham  had 
servants  that  he  bought  with  his  money;  and  no 
further  was  there  need  of  argument.  Hawley  soon 
lost  himself  amid  the  gaudy  decorations  of  this  old 
book,  finding  here  a  silken  banner  with  an  error 
inscribed  upon  it;  there  he  seemed  to  turn  over  a 
handkerchief  of  lace,  musty  with  dead  perfume.  But 
in  these  faded  fineries  how  clearly  was  traced  the 
inner  life  of  Ingleview,  forty  years  ago.  He  put 
the  book  aside  and  stood  gazing  at  the  negro 
quarter  on  a  hill -side,  not  far  away.  Old  Ben, 
carrying  a  bundle  of  roots,  crossed  his  view;  and 
he  heard  Aunt  Lily  singing  in  the  yard  An  ancient 
clock  in  the  hall  growled  and  began  to  strike.  It 
was  more  like  a  complaint,  this  whang,  whang, 
whang— it  was  a  begrudging  release  of  the  hour, 
a  whining  acknowledgment  of  time.  Hawley 
snatched  out  his  watch;  the  morning  had  slipped 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  67 

away  and  now  it  was  hasten  or  miss  his  appoint 
ment  with  the  Judge. 

"Yo*  hoss  is  ready  fur  you,  sah,"  said  Aunt  Lily 
as  he  stepped  out. 

"Turn  him  loose  again;   I'm  going  to  walk." 

"W'y,  you  ain'  gwine  walk  dis  hot  mawnin',  is 
you?  But  I  ain'  gwine  argy  wid  you,  chile,  fur 
you  knows  whut  you  kin  stan'.  Lissun  at  me 
callin'  you  chile.  You  mus'  skuze  me,  sah,  ef  I 
says  things  dat  ain'  right;  fur  I  spent  so  much  o' 
my  time  'mong  chillun  dat  I  doan  know  how  ter 
talk  ter  er  generman,  no  how.  Ef  you  gwine  walk 
jest  take  dat  paf  runnin'  ober  de  hill  yander,  cross 
de  ole  race  track  an'  you'll  soon  be  dar.  You 
gwine  like  dem  folks  ober  dar.  Good  mawnin', 
sah;  an  '1  ain'  gwine  look  fur  you  back  till  I  dun 
seed  you  comin'." 

Every  step  was  interesting.  He  'halted  on  a 
knoll  and  surveyed  his  possessions.  How  old  and 
how  venerable  the  landscape  was.  Time  had  seemed 
to  set  the  seal  of  its  approval  on  hill-top  and  in 
hollow.  He  crossed  the  old  race-track.  It  was 
grass-grown  but  with  no  dilapidated  sheds  to  blight 
the  scene.  He  followed  a  path  that  skirted  a  strip 


68  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

of  woods.  Some  one  called,  and  looking  about  he 
saw  Professor  Barrow  hastening  to  overtake  him. 

"You  are  light  on  your  feet,"  said  the  professor, 
coming  up. 

"Not  as  light  as  a  man  who  has  an  engagement 
should  be." 

"Going  over  to  the  Judge's,  eh?  Charming  old 
gentleman,  sir.  Permit  me  to  walk  with  you  a 
part  of  the  way.  There  is  something  that  I  wanted 
to  say  to  you,"  he  added  as  they  turned  down  the 
path  that  led  through  a  clover  field.  "I  don't  know 
how  you  feel  toward  higher  education,  but  it  has 
struck  me  that  you  might  be  willing  to  help  me 
revive  Bledsoe  University.  I  don't  ask  you  for  an 
immediate  decision — I  would  rather  that  you'd  wait 
awhile.  But  we  could  make  a  great  thing  of  it, 
sir;  we  could  startle  the  philosophical  world.  We 
would  pay  no  attention  to  what  might  be  called 
the  nick-nacks  of  learning;  we  would  mainly  devote 
ourselves  to  moral  philosophy.  I  am  getting  along 
in  years,  but  I'm  not  too  old;  the  mind  is  never 
old  so  long  as  it  is  progressive,  and  with  encour 
agement  my  mind  would  leap — yes,  sir,  actually 
leap  forward." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  69 

He  did  not  look  like  a  professor  of  any  sort  of 
philosophy.  He  wore  a  broad  brim,  rye  straw  hat 
with  a  red  band;  and  he  carried  his  cudgel  as  if  he 
were  constantly  expecting  an  attack  from  a  hidden 
enemy.  Hawley  knew  that  this  man's  mind  was 
not  sound,  and  he  felt,  therefore,  that  it  was  better 
to  humor  him,  not  with  a  promise  but  with  a 
pleasing  evasion.  " Higher  education  makes  higher 
man,"  said  he. 

"Ah,  a  snap-shot  at  truth.  And  you  will  assist 
me  with  my  enterprise." 

"I  can't  say  just  now,  but  I  will  think  of  it." 

"I  thank  you,  for  that  assures  me  that  I  may 
expect  your  help.  The  old  Judge  thinks  well  of 
my  pl-an,  and  I  am  sure  that  he  would  have  joined 
with  me  long  ago  but  for  the  fact  that  his  wife  held 
him  back.  Ah,  but  she's  a  pernicious  creature; 
and  such  a  life  as  she  does  lead  him!  She's  his 
second  wife,  and  was  a  poor,  stuck-up  old  maid 
when  he  married  her.  Why,  sir,  I  hardly  dare 
go  on  the  place.  She  threatened  to  scald  me  once." 

"And,"  said  Hawley,  "if  she's  as  pernicious  as 
you  think  she  might  scald  you  twice." 

The  professor  struck  the  ground  with  his  cudgel. 


7O  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Yes,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  three  times  if  I  should 
give  her  the  chance.  But  I  won't;  I  will  treat  her 
with  distant  contempt.  Well,  I  must  leave  you 
here.  Vender's  the  house,  just  across  the  pike." 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  Judge's  house  was  built  of  red  bricks  and 
stood  with  its  sharp  gable  end  toward  the  turn 
pike.  There  were  numerous  trees  in  the  yard, 
oaks,  elms  and  stubbed  cedars;  an  orchard  came 
close  up  to  the  fence,  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other 
side  was  a  garden  wild  with  shrubbery  and  berry- 
briars.  The  creek  that  flowed  through  Ingleview, 
turned  at  a  bluff  a  mile  away,  and  ran  past  the 
foot  of  the  stony  hill  on  which  the  Judge's  house 
seemed  to  sit  in  dullness,  brooding. 

The  Judge  was  walking  to  and  fro  in  the  yard, 
with  his  hands  behind  him.  His  white  hat  was  on 
the  ground  under  a  tree,  and  an  old,  sleepy-eyed 
dog  lay  with  one  paw  resting  on  it. 

"Come  right  in,"  cried  the  Judge,  hastening  to 
ward  the  gate.  "Here,  I'll  open  it;  has  to  be 
lifted  up.  Been  threatening  to  fix  it  for  more  than 
a  year.  That's  it.  How  do  you  find  yourself  this 

71 


jr2  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

morning,"  he  asked,  shaking  hands  with  his  visitor. 

"First  rate." 

"I'm  pleased  to  hear  it.     Step  right  this  way." 

A  fleeting  vision  of  white  and  pink  told  Hawley 
that  a  girl  had  disappeared  behind  a  corner  of  the 
house,  and  the  broad  haw,  haw,  of  a  negro  woman 
who  stood  in  the  door  of  a  cabin  informed  him 
that  the  escape  had  been  observed  in  another 
quarter.  With  stately  but  easy  ceremony  the 
Judge  showed  his  visitor  into  the  hall,  and  when 
he  had  hung  up  his  hat,  conducted  him  into  the  old 
fashioned  parlor.  The  room  was  severe  and  the 
furniture  was  heavy.  In  one  corner  was  a  piano, 
so  antiquated,  so  crippled  in  its  legs  that  it  ap 
peared  to  lean  against  the  wall  for  rest.  There 
was  a  great  arm-chair  with  a  sheep-skin  bottom; 
a  horse-hair  sofa  nearly  as  large  as  a  bed;  a  red 
bell-cord  hung  near  the  door;  brass  andirons 
gleamed  in  the  fire-place — the  whole  bore  the  ap 
pearance  of  a  room  in  a  museum,  representing  the 
home  life  of  some  political  leader  of  the  past. 

A  tall  woman  came  in  and  the  Judge  presented 
Hawley  to  his  wife.  In  looks  she  did  not  dispute 
the  character  which  the  professor  of  moral  philos- 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  73 

ophy  had  given  her.  Her  features  were  sharp, 
her  eyes  were  small  and  her  hair  was  the  color  of 
dry  grass.  Her  lips  were  thin  and  her  mouth  large. 
Her  neck  was  long,  and  when  she  slightly  bowed, 
which  she  did  in  acknowledgment  of  the  introduc 
tion,  the  act  implied  a  strong  though  groundless 
pretense  to  stateliness.  She  had  cultivated  a  lisp, 
having  doubtless  caught  the  idea  from  some  sense 
less  romance;  and  she  regarded  herself,  one  could 
see,  as  a  privileged  person  who  could  at  will  take 
up  life's  graces  and  improve  upon  them.  It  was 
also  evident  that  she  was  never  wrong,  and  that 
she  was  therefore  never  forced  through  conviction 
to  acknowledge  a  fault. 

"Now,  sir,"  said  the  Judge,  "I  want  you  to  sit 
right  down  and  feel  as  much  at  home  as  I  did  at 
your  house  the  other  day.  Madam,"  he  added, 
speaking  to  his  wife,  "where  is  Ida?" 

"I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  She  was  here  just  a 
few  moments  ago.  You  are  a  stranger  among  us, 
Mr.  Hawley,  but  you  will  soon  become  acquainted 
with  our  ways." 

"A  Chicago  man,"  Hawley  ventured  to  reply,  "is 
a  stranger  nowhere." 


74  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Indeed,"   she   rejoined,   lifting   her   eyebrows. 
"I  am  pleased  to  hear  it  for  we  do  so  much  desire 
that  every  one  should  feel   at  home.     Shall  I  get 
you  a  fan?" 
.  "No,  I  thank  you." 

"You  may  hand  me  that  turkey  wing  over  there," 
said  the  Judge."It's  too  hot  for  any  use  to-day." 

She  handed  him  the  turkey  wing  and  he  sat 
fanning  himself.  She  looked  at  him  with  a  sort  of 
pitying  compassion.  "I  don't  see  why  you  stick  to 
that  old  thing.  Judge,  when  you  might  as  well  have 
a  fan,"  she  said;  and  the  old  man  replied:  "There 
are  a  great  many  things,  Madam,  that  you  may 
not  be  able  to  see." 

"And  there  are  some  things  that  I  don't  care  to 
see,"  she  returned  with  a  suggestion  of  snappish- 
ness  in  the  tone  of  her  voice. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  placidly  fanning  him 
self,  "and  there  are  also  some  things  that  you  won't 
see  although  you  look  straight  at  them." 

Hawley  was  not  well  acquainted  with  household 
affairs,  but  he  inferred  that  the  Judge  and  his  wife 
had  indulged  in  a  tilt  that  morning  and  were  as  yet 
unable  to  hide  the  unpleasant  fact. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  75 

"You  are  all  alone,  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Trap- 
nell,  addressing  Hawley.  "That  is  to  say,  you 
have  no  family." 

"No  family,"  Hawley  answered. 

"You  must  feel  very  lonely  in  that  big  house.  It 
always  was  a  dreary  place  to  me.  I  always  asso 
ciate  it  with  a  lot  of  stuck  up  people  that  used  to 
live  there.  But  of  course  you  intend  to  improve 
it.  There's  room  for  it,  goodness  knows.  You 
will  please  excuse  me  as  I  have  to  see  how  dinner 
is  progressing.  Servants  in  this  part  of  the  country 
are  not  what  they  once  were." 

She  bowed,  withdrew;  and  then  the  Judge  said: 
"Here  comes  my  granddaughter." 

Hawley  arose  and  was  introduced  to  a  red-headed 
girl.  She  appeared  to  be  full  of  pranks  and  sup 
pressed  laughter.  Her  complexion  was  exceedingly 
fair  and  on  her  cheeks  dim  freckles  were  discerni 
ble.  Her  eyes  were  gleeful,  divulging  a  mischief 
which  she  seemed  to  be  striving  to  hide;  she  was 
small  though  plump;  and  Hawley  thought  that 
her  neck  was  beautiful.  The  visitor  said  some 
thing  and  the  girl  turned  away,  giggling. 

The  Judge  sternly  pronounced  her  name,  and  in- 


76  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

stantly  her  face  became  serious,  but  its  gravity  fell 
to  pieces  and  she  laughed  and  ran  away.  But 
she  halted  upon  reaching  the  door,  turned  to 
Hawley  and  said:  "You  must  excuse  me  but  I 
can't  help  it.  The  truth  is  I  was  up  in  an  apple 
tree  when  you  came;  and  when  I  jumped  down 
and  ran  away,  I  bumped  against  a  calf  that  had 
just  got  into  the  yard  and  I  fell  into  the  cellar." 

"I  hope  you  didn't  hurt  yourself,"  Hawley  re 
plied,  laughing. 

"No,  but  I  didn't  do  myself  any  good.  Gramper, 
where's  grams?" 

The  Judge  looked  up  quickly  and  remarked: 
"That's  what  she  calls  her  grandmother  and  me." 

"And  your  grams,"  said  Hawley,  smiling  at  her, 
"has  gone  to  see  about  dinner." 

She  liked  this  familiar  pleasantry;  it  was  so 
different  from  the  cool  dignity  which  she  had  pre 
figured  as  a  characteristic  of  this  man;  and  to  the 
visitor  it  was  evident  that  many  a  scrap  of  dried 
advice  had  been  stuffed  into  her  ears.  She  was 
surely  not  beyond  her  seventeenth  year.  At  one 
moment  she  appeared  to  have  all  the  physical  ease 
of  a  matured  woman;  at  the  next  instant  she 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  .     77 

showed  the  lingering  awkwardness  of  the  growing 
girl. 

"Ida,"  said  her  grandfather,  "go  down  by  the 
spring  branch  and  bring  some  mint." 

"There's  some  in  the  garden,"  she  replied. 

"I  told  you  to  go  down  by  the  spring  branch." 

"I  think  the  garden  mint  is  better,  gramper." 

The  old  man  looked  at  her  and  cleared  his  throat, 
and  pretending  to  be  greatly  frightened  at  his 
severity  of  manner,  she  hastened  away. 

"An  old  man,"  said  the  Judge,  "is  master  no 
where,  not  even  in  his  own  house." 

"I  don't  think  you  have  cause  to  complain," 
Hawley  replied. 

"No,  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  haven't.  All  my  life 
I  have  endeavored  to  employ  reason  rather  than 
authority.  I  was  many  years  on  the  bench,  and 
therefore  I  weigh  causes  instead  of  issuing  a  com 
mand." 

"Your  long  service  as  a  mediator  must  have 
made  you  well  acquainted  with  the  weakness  of 
man." 

"Yes,  but  it  takes  no  such  training  to  discover 
a  thing  so  apparent.  Man,  sir,  is  so  weak  that  he 


78  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

looks  upon  his  own  selfishness  as  a  virtue.  To  him 
a  rascally  shrewdness  is  enterprise  and  greed  is 
ability.  Civilization  may  polish,  but  it  also  hardens 
him.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  the  height  of  polish 
and  hardness  is  about  reached.  Every  year  a  new 
littleness  in  man  is  revealed.  Last  year  I  may  have 
thought  that  human  nature  could  descend  no 
lower;  but  this  year  I  find  that  what  I  took  to  be 
a  limit,  was  only  a  mile-stone  along  the  downward 
course." 

Hawley  moved  uneasily  in  his  chair  "But  my 
dear  sir,"  said  he,  "your  view  may  possibly  be 
distorted.  Every  age  in  fhe  past  was  at  one  time 
a  present,  and  therefore  must  have  been  denounced. 
As  we  grow  old,  our  eyes  are  blinded  to  the  good 
and  the  beauty  of  the  present,  while  our  memory 
so  sharp  of  edge,  cuts  swiftly  back  to  the  past  and 
flashes  a  glory  over  the  things  that  were.  Pardon 
me,"  he  added,  warned  by  the  stiffening  aspect  of 
the  old  man,  "I  merely  say  this  at  a  venture: 
merely  throw  it  off  as  a  suggestion." 

"You  have  a  right,  sir,  to  offer  suggestions,"  the 
old  jurist  admitted;  "a  follower  of  Jackson  should 
grant  freedom  of  speech  to  every  man.  And  by 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  79 

the  Eternal,  sir,  shall  I  in  my  old  and  feeble  ignor 
ance  say  that  you  are  not  right  ?  I  may  be  blind 
and  the  blind  man  may  say  that  there  are  no 
flowers.  And  his  adversary  may  tell  him  that  the 
existence  of  flowers  do  not  depend  upon  his  eyes; 
they  hold  a  sweet  perfume.  And  then  the  blind 
man  says,  my  nostrils  are  dull  and  I  can  smell 
them  not.  Now,  sir,  I  may  be  blind  and  unable 
to  smell,  but  by  the  Eternal,  I  don't  believe  it.  I 
say  that  an  age  free  from  strikes  and  all  sorts  of 
labor  disturbances  is  better  than  a  time  of  organ 
ized  insurrection  against  authority." 

"But  how  about  wild-cat  banks,  Judge?" 

The  old  man  snorted.  "Hasn't  a  sovereign  state 
a  right  to  make  its  own  money?"  he  demanded. 

"Oh,  yes,"  Hawley  answered,  "and  another 
sovereign  state  has  the  right  to  say  that  it  is  not 
money.  Jackson  was  no  doubt  a  great  man  in 
his  way,  but — " 

"In  his  way!"  the  old  man  shouted,  "Great  God, 
sir!  what  do  you  mean.  Why  don't  you  go  further 
and  declare  that  the  Saviour  was  great  in  his  way? 
But  pardon  me,"  he  added,  loosening  his  high- 
strung  tension.  "It  must  be  true  that  I  am  an 


8O  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

old  fogy,  and  out  of  place.  This  is  not  my  day;  it 
is  yours  with  your  keen  business  sense."  He  got 
up,  while  Hawley  sat  wondering  what  to  say,  and 
pacing  the  floor,  continued:  "By  the  Eternal,  sir, 
I  rather  like  your  antagonism.  It  makes  my  old 
blood  move.  The  people  hereabout  have  indulged 
me  in  what  they  no  doubt  regard  as  my  whim. 
Whim  the  devil!  Common  sense  is  not  a  whim. 
If  it  is,  then  may  the  Lord  send  us  more  whims. 
Do  you  know,  Mr.  Hawley,  that  one  idea,  one 
determination  sometimes  keeps  a  man  alive  ap 
parently  beyond  his  allotted  time?  I  will  explain: 
A  strong  heat  has  in  it  the  element  of  life;  a  thirst 
for  revenge  induces  an  eagerness  that  fights  off 
death.  Do  you  catch  my  meaning  ?" 
I  don't  know  that  I  do,  very  clearly." 
"I  shall  endeavor,  then,  to  make  myself  under 
stood.  A  man  has  an  aim  in  life,  attains  it  and — 
dies.  The  active  man  retires  from  business  and  is 
soon  dead.  And  why?  His  life-giving  stimulus  is 
gone.  My  aim  was  to  sit  upon  the  supreme  bench 
of  this  state.  That  was  denied  me.  Then  what 
took  the  place  of  that  aim?  The  thirst  for  the 
blood  of  Gordon  P.  Hensley.  And  this  is  what 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  8  I 

has  kept  me  alive.  Do  I  call  myself  a  Christian?  I 
do.  Was  Moses  a  man  of  God?  He  was.  Did  Moses 
forgive?  He  did  not."  He  was  silent  for  a  few 
moments,  but  continuing  to  walk  up  and  down  the 
room,  he  added:  "As  the  plan  of  a  just  vengeance 
enters  the  bosom  as  an  inspiration  from  the  Lord, 
I  believe  that  Gordon  P.  Hensley  is  to  be  thrown 
in  my  way.  The  years  come  feebly  tottering  on, 
and  the  blood  grows  cooler  and  cooler,  but  it  is 
not  intended  that  this  man  shall  escape  me.  At 
times  I  have  been  tempted  to  hunt  for  him,  but  to 
hunt  for  him  would  be  a  premeditation  of  murder; 
God  must  place  him  in  my  way;  and  the  hand  of 
restraint  has  been  put  upon  me  and  I  have  fancied 
that  I  heard  a  voice  say,  'wait;  your  time  is  com 
ing.'  As  I  before  requested,  Mr.  Hawley,  don't 
mention  this.  Talking  about  it  comes  upon  me 
like  a  hydrophobic  spell." 

"Hydrophobic  is  rather  appropriate,"  said  Haw- 
ley.  "You  don't  want  water,  but  blood." 

"Yes;  it's  rather  shocking  to  the  super-fine  and 
hypocritical  senses  of  to-day,  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true.  I  don't  know,  sir,  that  I  was  ever  guilty  of 
a  cruelty;  but  I  hold  that  revenge  is  a  god-like 

Tennessee  Judge    6 


82  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

quality.  Oh,  I  know  that  we  are  enjoined  to  for 
give,  but  that  is  a  mere  pleasantry.  Here's  Ida 
with  the  mint." 

"Gramper,"  said  the  girl,  "I  went  to  both  places 
and  the  spring  branch  mint  is  the  best." 

The  old  man  laughed,  and  reclaiming  the  manner 
of  a  bygone  politeness,  he  bowed  and  said:  "That 
acknowledgment  advances  you  ten  degrees  in 
grace." 

"In  your  opinion,  gramper,  which  is  grace 
etherialized." 

"Ah,  but  you  lose  your  grace  and  sink  to  the 
level  of  the  seminary  pedant.  Now,  Mr.  Hawley, 
we'll  have  a  mint  toddy.  I'll  go  into  the  dining- 
room  and  have  it  ready  for  you." 

He  withdrew  and  the  girl  sat  on  the  broad  arm 
of  his  rocking  chair. 

"I  hope  you  like  it  here,  Mr.  Hawley,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  the  country  is  beautiful." 

"And  the  people?" 

"I  haven't  seen  many  of  the  people.  I  must 
say,  though,  that  I  have  been  received  with  kind 
ness." 

"Men  that  have  money  usually  are, "she  replied. 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  83 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  quick  inquiry  and  she 
laughed.  "It  wouldn't  do  for  gramper  to  hear 
me  say  that,"  she  said,  "but  he  ought  to  know  that 
it's  true.  He  thinks  it's  strange  that  a  girl  should 
know  more  now  than  the  girls  did  when  he  was 
young.  But  they  do.  I  am  awfully  tired  of  this 
fogyish  old  place.  Never  any  change — just  the 
same,  one  day  and  another.  I'd  like  to  live  in  a 
city — I'd  like  to  see  something  of  life." 

"You  might  soon  get  tired  of  it." 

"The  women  that  live  there  don't  seem  to  get 
tired  of  it.  I  notice  that  when  they  come  to  the 
country  they  get  back  as  soon  as  they  can.  I've 
lived  in  Nashville  a  good  deal;  I'd  like  to  live 
there  all  the  time." 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  a  very  large  city?" 

"I  went  with  gramper  to  New  Orleans,  once,  but 
we  didn't  stay  very  long.  Tell  me  about  Chicago." 

"What  must  I  tell  you?" 

"Oh,  everything.  I  don't  know,  however,  that 
I'd  like  to  live  there.  They  kill  too  many  people 
there;  I've  heard  that  when  people  get  up  in  the 
morning  they  don't  know  where  the  railroad  trains 
are  going  to  run  before  evening;  and  along  about 


84  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

dinner  time  a  train  slips  up  and  kills  them.  And  I 
have  read,  too,  that  the  water  is  awful.  People 
jump  into  the  lake  and  are  drowned  and  other 
people  drink  the  water.  The  widow  Myer's  son- 
lives  about  three  miles  from  here — went  to  Chicago 
last  year  and  about  four  months  later  he  came 
home  with  only  one  leg.  He  said  that  he  couldn't 
possibly  get  away  with  both  of  them.  You  needn't 
laugh,  for  I  just  know  it's  all  true.  But  I'd  like 
to  go  there  and  peep  at  the  place  and  run  away." 

"Probably  if  you  were  to  go  there  you  wouldn't 
want  to  run  away." 

"That  may  be,  if  I  didn't  get  killed  right  off. 
Oh,  you  needn't  laugh." 

"You  want  me  to  tell  you  about  Chicago,  and 
yet  you  presist  in  telling  me  about  it,"  he  said. 

"I'll  hush;  go  on  and  tell  me." 

"No,  I'd  rather  have  you  tell  me,  for  there 
might  be  a  misleading  prejudice  in  what  I  say, 
while  in  what  you  tell  me  there  will  surely  be  en 
tertainment.  I  must  tell  you?  Well,  let  me  start, 
as  the  true  Chicago  man  always  does,  by  saying 
that  my  city  is  the  most  wonderful  in  the  world. 
It  is  the  most  active  and  thinks  quicker;  it  is  the 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  85 

most  progressive  and  is  consequently  the  most 
American  of  all  cities.  Foreigners  pour  in  but 
they  are  soon  swallowed  up  and  Chicago  licks  her 
chops  for  more.  Anarchists  arise  and  are  hanged; 
aldermen  filch  and  are  sent  to  the  penitentiary — " 
"And,"  interrupted  the  Judge,  appearing  at  the 
door,  "women  work  for  starvation  wages;  modest 
virtue  is  despised;  grinding  vulgarians,  grown  rich 
on  a  sudden,  spit  upon  the  poverty-stricken — their 
companions  of  yesterday.  That,  sir,  my  reading 
and  my  reason  teach  me,  is  the  every-day  life  of 
all  new  cities.  But,  come,  dinner  is  ready,"  he 
added,  advancing  and  taking  Hawley's  arm. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

In  the  dining-room  was  the  inevitable  negro  with 
a  leafy  bough,  keeping  the  flies  away.  The  light, 
coming  aslant  through  a  high,  narrow  window, 
fell  upon  the  heavy  silver  ware  and  beglittsred  the 
table.  At  an  old  mahogony  side-board,  knobbed, 
gnarled  and  twisted  with  cunning  artifice,  the  Judge 
and  his  visitor  stood  and  sipped  the  mint  infusion. 
Time  had  thrown  reverence  upon  this  indulgence, 
and  the  Judge  appeared  in  no  haste  to  bring  it  to  an 
end,  although  his  wife,  with  worry-flushed  face, 
stood  at  the  foot  of  the  table  waiting  for  him  to  sit 
down.  But  the  old  man  was  at  a  shrine  where 
confidences  are  spoken,  where  habits  are  confessed. 
He  told  Hawley  that  since  early  life  he  had  taken 
three  drinks  a  day,  never  more  and  never  fewer; 
he  did  not  believe  in  striving  to  enforce  temperance, 
for,  in  the  government  of  the  appetite  every  man 
was  a  law  unto  himself.  Whisky  was  plentiful  in 
his  day;  every  respectable  house  had  its  side-board, 

86 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  87 

and  yet,  besotted  drunkenness  was  rare.  The 
liquor  was  purer  and  man  had  more  pride.  If  a 
traveler  stopped  at  a  house  to  ask  direction  to  a 
place,  before  his  question  was  answered  he  was  in 
vited  to  drink.  The  negroes  were  given  a  dram 
every  morning.  It  was  a  mistake  to  believe  that 
the  introduction  of  that  vile  brew,  lager  beer,  had 
aided  the  cause  of  temperance.  It  was  a  dastardly 
slop,  an  un-American  hog-wash.  It  dulled  our 
native  keenness,  it  put  clogs  on  the  nimbly-tripping 
feet  of  fancy,  compelled  fancy  to  labor  with  phleg 
matic  legs. 

At  the  table  Hawley  made  himself  studiedly 
agreeable;  he  had  learned  many  of  the  old  man's 
prejudices  and  with  more  of  politeness  than  of  con 
viction  he-strove  to  humor  them.  He  told  of  the 
rapid  pace  with  which  life  was  compelled  to  move 
in  his  city;  the  struggle  was  for  time.  "A  friend 
of  mine  and  I  were  going  out  of  town  on  business," 
said  he.  "My  friend  needed  shaving.  We  had  but 
a  few  moments  to  spare.  There  were  two  barber 
shops,  side  by  side.  We  looked  into  one  and  then 
into  the  other.  All  the  chairs  were  full.  'I  will 
go  in  here,'  said  my  friend,  choosing  the  worst 
looking  shop." 


38  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Why  did  he  do  that?"  the  Judge  asked.  "1 
thought  that  a  Chicago  man  would  choose  the 
best." 

"I  thought  so  too,"  Hawley  answered,  "and  I 
asked  him  when  he  came  out  why  he  had  gone  in 
to  that  shop.  'Why,  I  noticed,'  said  he,  'that  the 
barbers  were  about  equally  advanced  with  their 
work,  and  I  selected  the  one  in  which  a  bald- 
headed  man  sat.  He  was  likely  to  be  the  soonest 
dismissed — the  barber  didn't  have  to  comb  his 
hair." 

The  old  man  laughed,  the  girl  giggled,  but  Mrs. 
Trapnell  drew  down  the  corners  of  her  mouth  and 
fanned  her  flushed  face.  She  was  determined  not 
to  be  amused.  Hawley's  sharp  eye  caught  the  re 
flected  color  of  her  intention,  and  adroitly  bringing 
it  about,  he  told  her  of  a  panic  that  he  had  once 
seen  in  a  theater;  men  were  knocked  down  and 
women  were  crushed.  At  this  she  was  pleased, 
and  now  the  guest  found  himself  on  good  terms 
with  her.  The  Judge  talked  and  occasionally  his 
granddaughter  took  mild  issue  with  him;  the  negro 
boy  nodded  and  garnished  a  ham  with  his  leafy 
bough;  Mrs.  Trapnell  cleared  her  throat  with  a 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  89 

grating  threat  and  the  negro  sprang  back  to  instant 
sprightliness.  The  old  Judge  frowned  at  this 
unseemly  balking  of  the  social  flow,  which  he  had 
been  glad  to  see  was  broadening  pleasantly;  and 
Ida  laughed  and  shot  a  mischief-making  glance  at 
Hawley. 

They  returned  to  the  parlor.  "We'll  smoke 
here,"  said  the  Judge.  "Ida,  bring  the  pipes  and 
the  tobacco  box."  His  wife  gave  him  a  hard  look 
but  he  pretended  not  to  see  her.  It  was  still 
more  evident  to  the  visitor  that  they  had  indulged 
in  a  tilt,  and  he  wondered  if  an  inability  or  a  dis 
inclination  to  conceal  a  household  bickering  had 
been  a  feature  of  the  lordly  Southern  life,  long  ago. 
They  lighted  their  pipes.  Hawley  looked  toward 
the  piano  and  the  girl,  quick  to  construe  his  glance, 
smiled  at  him  and  said:  "Yes,  I  know  it  would 
be  polite  to  ask  me  to  play,  but  it  wouldn't  be 
agreeable  if  I  should  attempt  it.  That  old  piano 
was  worn  out  years  ago  with  'Rosy  Lee,  the  Prairie 
Flower,'  and  'We  miss  you  Nettie  Moore.'" 

"Ida,"  said  the  grandmother. 

"Well  it  was,"  she  insisted.  "Didn't  a  man 
come  to  tune  it  some  time  ago,  and  didn't  he  say 


go  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

it  was  a   hopeless   wreck?     I  must    say,    though, 
that  I'm  glad  of  it;   I  don't  like  to  play  anyhow." 
"Then  you  aren't  fond  of  music,"  said  Hawley 
"Oh,  yes,  and  that's  the  reason  I  don't   like  to 

play." 

Footsteps  in  the  hall.     A  man  appeared  at  the 
door,  bowed  and  said:     "I  hope  I  see  you  all." 

"It's  more  than  likely  that  you  do,"  the  Judge 
replied.  "Come  in,  Charles."  And  then  with 
bowing,  smiling  and  a  perfect  pantomime  of  scrap 
ings,  Mr.  Charles  Willis  entered  the  room.  He  was 
tall,  with  unusually  long  legs;  his  head  was  large 
and  his  forehead  was  square  and  flattened  at  the 
temples;  his  eyes  were  of  a  nondescript  color; 
and  tangled  up  in  his  thick,  short  beard,  he 
appeared  constantly  to  wear  half  a  smile,  half 
a  cynical  leer.  When  introduced  to  Hawley,  he 
cut  a  caper,  shook  hands  and  said:  "I  hope  I 
-  impress  you  favorably;  if  not,  my  efforts  are  futive 
and  abortive." 

"Mr.  Willis,"  remarked  the  Judge,  "is  my  wife's 
cousin." 

Mrs.    Trapnell,  slowly   fanning  herself,  did   not 
deny  the  charge.   Mr.  Willis,  still  holding  Hawley's 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  9 1 

hand,  "thus  went  on:  "I  hope,  sir,  that  your 
education  has  not  been  neglected;  but,  sir,  can 
you  spell  elemosynary  ?  Quick  now;  quick." 

Hawley  spelled  the  word,  thinking  of  his  nest  of 
cranks,  the  while:  and  Mr.  Willis,  releasing  his 
hand,  bowed  and  expressed  himself  as  greatly 
satisfied  with  the  result. 

"Charles,"  said  the  Judge,  "I  was  just  wondering 
if  you  would  ever  learn  to  behave  yourself." 

"Judge,  I  try  to  be  a  gentleman,"  Mr.  Willis 
declared. 

"That's  all  right,  Charley,"  said  the  Judge,  "but 
don't  you  think  you'd  better  take  up  an  easier 
experiment?" 

"Why,  you  dear,  distinguished  cuss,  you  shock 
me,"  Mr.  Willis  retorted.  "When  I  awake  at  morn 
ing  I  say:  'Oh,  Charley,  do  be  a  gentleman.'  Mr. 
Hawley  permit  me  "  He  shook  hands  again  and 
then  said:  "Allow  me  to  welcome  you  to  this,  the 
flower  garden  of  God's  kingdom.  But  why  a  flower 
garden?  In  spite  of  the  sloth  and  shiftlessness  of 
the  people.  Look  at  the  biggest  land  owner  in 
this  county,  old  Harry  Morton,  down  near  the 
river.  Is  he  a  man?  He  is  not.  Was  he  born? 


92  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

I  deny  it.  He  was  laid  upon  a  stump  by  some 
aerial  scavenger  and  hatched  out  by  the  genial  rays 
of  a  Southern  sun.  Be  seated,  Mr.  Hawley." 
Hawley  sat  down;  Mr.  Willis  continued:  "I  hope 
that  I  make  myself  understood.  I  endeavor  to  be 
clear,  logical  and  euphonius;  forcible,  pure,  elegant 
and  expressive;  terse,  syllogistic,  pointed  and  con 
vincing.  And,  as  I  say,  if  I  fail,  my  efforts  have 
been  futive  and  abortive.  Are  you  a  reader  of 
character?  Will  you  please  tell  me  what  you  think 
of  me?" 

"I  don't  think  that  you  can  be  very  dangerous," 
said  Hawley,  having  satisfied  himself  that  the  man 
was  a  sort  of  verbal  freak. 

"Dangerous.  How  can  you  think  of  that  harsh 
word?  I  am  the  whipped  cream  of  gentleness." 

"Ah,  by  the  way,"  Hawley  asked,  "you  don't 
live  on  my  farm,  do  you?" 

"My  dear  sir,  I  have  not  that  distinguished 
honor.  Judge,  why  that  ripple  of  merriment  on 
your  venerable  countenance?  I  live  beside  the 
often  placid  yet  some  times  raging  waters  of  the 
Cumberland,  three  miles  from  this  peaceful  abode. 
I  live  alone;  my  wives  are  dead.  My  home  is 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  93 

humble,  lowly,  quiet,  peaceful,  small,  half  hidden, 
but  picturesque.  I  might  be  wealthy,  but  I  have 
had  to  contend  against  the  world,  without  argu 
ment  enough  to  convince  the  world  that  it  ought 
to  give  me  a  fair  compensation  for  my  services.  I 
am  a  scientific  agriculturist.  Look."  .  He  sprang 
from  the  chair  upon  which  he  had  seated  him 
self  a  moment  before,  thrust  his  hand  in  the  tail 
pocket  of  his  coat  and  drew  forth  a  turnip.  "This 
turnip,"  said  he,  "and  I  charge  you  to  observe  its 
smooth  proportion — was  raised  by  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  But  just  think  what  it  would  be  had  the 
man  who  raised  it  been  a  judge.  Look  at  this." 
He  drew  out  a  potato.  "Raised  by  a  constable. 
What  might  we  have  expected  of  it  had  he  been  a 
sheriff?  This  land  is  choked  with  possibilities. 
These  products  were  raised  by  men  who  still  spell 
corn,  cabbage  and  cucumbers  with  a  k.  I  say  to 
'the  world,  give  me  a  chance;  I  am  a  practical 
man.  So  when  I  heard  that  you  had  bought  this 
great  piece  of  land  over  here,  I  was  determined  to 
come  to  see  you.  And  as  I  say,  I  hope  that  I  im 
press  you  favorably.  If  not,  my  efforts  are  futive 
and  abortive." 


94  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Charley,  have  you  seen  Henry's  folks  lately?" 
Mrs.  Trapnell  asked.  And  he  loftily  answered: 

"Cousin  Mandy,  this  is  no  time  to  grease  conver 
sation  with  a  bacon  rind.  Henry  and  his  folks  are 
hunks  of  coarse  meat.  Let  us  hurl  them  into  a 
deserved  obscurity.  Judge,  it  strikes  me  that  an 
essence  of  mint  permeates  the  ambient  air;  and 
with  your  permission  I  will  consult  your  side 
board." 

"Help  yourself;  and  by  the  way  you  will  find 
something  to  eat  on  the  table." 

"Judge,  greediness  shows  appreciation;  I  will 
therefore  •greedily  accept  your  kind  offer." 

When  Mr.  Willis  stepped  out  the  Judge,  speak 
ing  to  Hawley,  remarked:  "I  had  to  laugh  just 
now  when  you  asked  him  if  he  lived  on  your  farm." 

"I  didn't  know,"  Hawley  replied,  "but  that  he 
belonged" — he  hesitated,  looking  at  Mrs.  Trapnell. 

"I  grant  you  permission  to  say  it,"  she  said, 
smiling.  "He  is  a  distant  relation  of  mine  but  I 
don't  presume  to  defend  him." 

"I  wasn't  going  to  say  anything  greatly  to  his 
discredit.  I  naturally  supposed  that  his  place  was 
with  the  doctor  and  the  Professor  of  moral  philos 
ophy." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  95 

"Charley  is  a  bright  fellow  in  some  things,"  said 
the  Judge.  "I  think  his  trouble  is  that  he  doesn't 
exactly  know  what  he  wants." 

"He's  not  a  bore  at  any  rate,"  Hawley   replied. 

"No,  not  at  first,"  the  girl  spoke  up.  "After  a 
while,  though — " 

"Ida,"  said  her  grandmother,  "you'd  better  run 
down  to  the  spring-house  and  get  the  crock  of 
buttermilk  for  him." 

"I  don't  think  he  wants  milk,  grams." 

"She  appears  to  know,"  said  the  Judge. 

Just  then  Mr.  Willis  stepped  back  into  the  room. 
"Mr.  Hawley,"  said  he,  "I  should  like'  to  walk  a 
part  of  the  way  home  with  you  and  lay  before  you 
a  plan  that  will,  without  the  most  fleeting  obscu 
ration  of  a  doubt,  serve  you  to  your  advantage." 

"All  right,"  Hawley  answered.  "No  man  is 
more  willing  to  look  at  a  plan  that  has  been  drawn 
for  his  advantage." 

"Good,"  Mr.  Willis  exclaimed.  "The  trouble  is 
that  I  have  always  had  to  buck  —please  pardon  me 
for  so  harsh  and  coarse  a  word  as  buck,  for  I  strive 
to  be  chaste,  though  pungent;  delicate  though 
severe.  The  trouble  that  I  have  had  to  contend 


96  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

against  is  that  people  with  whom  I  am  most  un 
fortunately  thrown  in  contact,  stand  and  roll  their 
eyes  in  dull  astonishment  at  the  plans  which  I  un 
fold  for  their  advantage.  Did  I  say  people?  They 
are  not  people;  they  are  the  mistakes  of  an  over 
abundant  creation;  they  would  make  a  valuable 
addition  to  a  compost  heap." 

"Charles,"  said  the  Judge,  "I  would  give  a  great 
deal  for  your  enthusiasm.  How  have  you  managed 
to  keep  it  all  these  years?" 

Willis  cut  a  dido,  gestured  a  protest  against  the 
insinuation  that  he  was  growing  old  and  thus  re 
torted:  "My  enthusiasm  is  a  part  of  my  nature; 
my  nature  is  a  tenant  of  my  body,  and  demands 
that  its  habitation  shall  be  kept  in  good  repair. 
In  fact,  I  exercise;  I  get  up  at  morning  and  kick 
and  stretch  my  arms.  To  strain  is  the  exercise  of 
the  brute,  the  prize  fighter.  I  take  the  exercise  of 
the  gentleman,  and  pardon  me,  but  I  try  to  be  a 
gentleman." 

"An  honest  effort  to  be  a  gentleman  needs  no 
pardoning,  Charles;  it  is  no  offense." 

"Ah,  I  thank  you.  It  is  this  exercise,  Judge,  that 
keeps  up  my  gentlemanly  enthusiasm." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  97 

"With  exercise  we  may  keep  the  body  strong," 
said  the  Judge,  "but  that  won't  keep  the  enthusiasm 
alive,  and  in  man's  enthusiasm  lies  his  genius. 
Mr.  Hawley — "  the  visitor  and  the  girl  were  talking 
— "at  your  time  of  life  I  was  full  of  enthusiasm, 
but  I  hadn't  the  mental  strength  then  that  I  have 
now.  A  man's  mind  expands  at  the  expense  of  his 
enjoyments.  And  when  his  mental  faculties  have 
become  well  drilled,  he  turns  sadly  from  his  dis 
cipline  and  muses  with  fond  lingering  over  his  crudi 
ties,  his  awkwardness  of  long  ago." 

"It  is  not  so  with  all  men,"  Hawley  replied.  "I 
know  old  men  on  the  board  of  trade  in  Chicago 
who  are  just  as  eager  and  enthusiastic  as  a  boy. 
Speculation  gives  them  a  thrill,  and  a  thrill  is  not 
only  a  reminder  but  the  real  presence  of  youth." 

"And  for  the  reason,"  the  Judge  rejoined,  "that 
the  gambler  lives  in  the  present  alone.  The  card 
player  lives  with  the  hand  he  is  now  holding,  and 
not  with  the  hand  he  held  yesterday.  And  I  have 
observed,  sir,  that  self-made  men  rarely  worship 
the  past,  for  to  them  the  past  was  hard  and  gnarly. 
The  university  man  turns  to  the  still  living  joy,  a 
victory  on  the  campus;  but  the  self-made  man, 

Tennessee  Judge  7 


Qg  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

looking  back,  sees  the  hard  struggle  of  poverty. 
He  despises  and  repudiates  the  past  and  therefore 
cleaves  to  the  present  and  looks  with  hope  to  the 

future." 

The  evening  was  well  advanced  when  Hawley 
arose  to  take  his  leave.  The  Judge's  wife  had 
grown  gracious  and  the  old  man  was  in  excellent 
humor.  Mr.  Willis,  as  though  in  haste  to  spread 
out  his  plan,  stood  in  the  door,  waiting  for  Hawley 
who  loitered  to  exchange  idle  words  with  the  girl. 
The  Judge  went  with  them  to  the  gate. 

"Did  you  notice,"  said  Willis  when  they  had 
crossed  the  turnpike  and  entered  the  long  stretch 
of  grass  land,  "that  the  Judge's  wife  didn't  seem 
to  be  in  the  best  of  humor?" 

"Yes,  I  noticed  it  and  wondered  at  it,  too," 
Hawley  answered.  "It  semes  to  me  that  rather 
than  show  ill-temper  to  a  stranger  in  my  own 
house  I  would  crush  myself  into  the  appearance  of 
good-humor." 

"Yes,  but  that  isn't  cousin  Mandy's  way.  She 
is  a  most  peculiar  creature,  and  mean?  Why 
blast  my  buttons — excuse  me,  a  barbarism  which 
I  did  not  intend — as  mean  at  times  as  a  rattlesnake 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  99 

in  August;  but  at  other  times  she's  as  'sweet  and 
chirpy  as  a  bird.  For  a  long  time,  now,  she  has 
been  dogging  the  old  man  to  sell  his  place  and  move 
to  town,  and  when  she's  in  one  of  these  tantrums, 
there's  no  getting  along  with  her.  The  old  man 
has  his  streaks,  too.  He's  learned  and  wise  and 
all  that,  but  he's  pig-headed.  You  will  observe 
that  frankness  is  a  characteristic  in  this  neighbor 
hood.  I  spoke  to  you  about  a  plan,  you  remember. 
Unfortunately  I  haven't  the  language  to  express 
what  I  think;  the  forms  that  trip  through  my  brain 
leave  but  their  shoes,  and  when  I  attempt  to 
present  these  forms,  what  is  the  result?  A  collec 
tion  of  foot-wear.  Now,  the  value  of  an  article 
depends  upon  the  material  of  which  it  is  made,  or 
rather  composed.  I  try  to  be  a  gentleman.  What 
I  am  trying  to  get  at  is  this:  I  have  devoted  my 
life  to  scientific  agriculture,  and  I  have  been 
appealing  not  to  men  but  to  clods.  I  say,  'give 
me  a-  reasonable  compensation  for  my  services. ' 
They  don't  catch  my  meaning.  Now,  I  have  ideas 
that  are  worth  hundreds  and  thousands  of  dollars 
to  other  men.  Then  why  shouldn't  they  be  worth 
something  to  me.  I  don't  ask  much,  understand; 
simply  a  reasonable  compensation." 


I00  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Well,"'Hawley  replied,  "what's  your  plan?" 

"You  don't  seem  to  catch  my  meaning,"  saicj 
Willis.  "Now,  I  know  that  I  could  be  of  the 
greatest  use  to  you,  apply  my  system  and  make 
your  farm  the  wonder  of  the  country?" 

"What  is  your  system?" 

"There  you  go  again.  As  I  said  before,  the 
value  of  an  article  depends  upon  the  material  of 
which  it  is  composed — but  I  will  come  over  and 
talk  to  you  some  time  when  I  feel  that  I'm  clearer. 
The  truth  is  that  as  an  agent  for  another,  I  am 
forcible  and  clear,  with  courage  enough  to  fight  a 
bear;  but  acting  in  my  own  behalf,  I  am  shy,  awk 
ward,  cramped  and  unfitted  for  the  position." 

"If  I  only  knew  what  you  were  trying  to  get  at  I 
could  tell  you  in  a  moment  whether  or  not  I  care 
to  entertain  your  proposition." 

"Ah,  but  we  must  not  be  too  sudden.  I  will 
work  over  my  proposition  until  every  speck  of 
extraneous  matter  is  eliminated.  Then  I  will 
submit  it  to  you.  Well,  I  will  leave  you  here. 
Good  night." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

That  night  Hawley  wrote  a  long  letter  to  old 
Dr.  Ford.  "I  suppose,"  he  said,  "that  I  am  getting 
the  sort  of  rest  that  you  advised.  Nothing  could 
be  further  from  excitement  than  the  daily  life  I 
lead.  I  don't  know  that  I  can  go  so  far  as  to  term 
it  life.  Sometimes  I  feel  that  I  am  in  the  center 
of  a  boundless  domain  of  stillness,  faintly  catching 
sounds  that  do  not  disturb  but  which  merely  call 
attention  to  silence.  Just  at  this  moment  the  clamor 
of  Chicago  would  be  music  to  me,  and  yet  I  must 
say  that  I  enjoy  my  present  state  of  existence.  I 
do  not  feel  that  I  am  fully  awake;  I  feel  as  one 
who,  having  sat  up  late,  comes  down  to  the  break 
fast  table  and  sits  there,  musing.  But  I  don't  sup 
pose  you  care  to  have  me  analyze  my  fancies;  you 
want  to  know  how  I  am  situated  and  how  I  am  im 
pressed.  Except  for  that  kinship  of  history  and 
tradition,  together  with  the  characteristics  that 

belong  alone  to  the  American,  I  should  think  that 

101 


102  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

I  had  come  to  a  foreign  country.  And  why  should 
I  think  this?  Because  this  part  of  the  country, 
njore  American  than  the  North,  is  strange  to  me. 
Here  the  influence  of  the  foreigner  has  not  been 
felt;  and  how  different  from  the  harsh  jargon 
which  we  hear  amid  the  out-landish  intermixture 
of  people  in  a  great  city,  is  the  soft  accent  given 
by  the  Tennesseean  to  our  mother  tongue.  It  can 
no  more  be  spslled  than  the  notes  of  a  bird  can  be 
accurately  put  down;  it  is  beyond  the  printer's 
inflection — the  phonograph  alone  can  catch  it. 

"How  close  together  this  country  has  been 
brought,  and  yet  how  willfully  we  misunderstand 
one  another.  The  East. is  astonished,  or  pretends 
to  be,  at  the  progress  and  culture  which  it  finds  in 
the  West;  the  West  often  misrepresents  the  South, 
and  we  all  of  us  resent  the  criticisms  of  the  English. 
But  it  does  seem  to  me  that  nature  has  placed  the 
stamp  of  oddity  on  every  man  I  have  met  here. 
After  all,  though,  men  of  marked  individuality  are 
more  often  found  in  the  country  than  in  the  city, 
and  it  may  also  be  that  in  the  city  we  rarely  take 
enough  interest  in  a  man  to  discover  an  individu 
ality.  At  any  rate  I  am  constantly  meeting  char- 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  1 03 

acters.  One  of  them  is  touched  with  insanity  and 
he  wants  me  to  build  a  university  for  him ;  another 
is  the  most  wordy  and  intangible  man  I  have  ever 
seen;  and  still  another  is  an  old  judge  whom  I 
should  like  you  to  meet.  He  seems  to  be  well- 
read,  and  in  his  own  way,  deeply  to  have  studied 
man;  yet  he  has  not  learned  man's  greatest  lesson, 
the  mastery  of  self.  Years  ago  a  tricky  politician 
beat  him  out  of  the  nomination  for  supreme  judge 
of  his  state  and,  to  this  hour,  he  is  stimulated  by 
the  hope  that  he  may  meet  the  fellow  and  spill  his 
blood.  He  has  the  pagan's  vengeance  but  believes 
it  to  be  a  Christian  virtue.  And  I  must  say  that  I 
can't  help  liking  him.  Somehow,  I  can't  explain 
why,  he  has  forced  me  to  respect  his  prejudices; 
and  I  shouldn't  wonder  that  if  after  a  while  I  might 
fall  so  completely  into  sympathy  with  him  as  to 
wish  him  success  in  all  that  he  longs  for.  The  old 
man  has  a  granddaughter  and  a  shrew  of  a  wife. 
The  girl,  I  might  say,  is  a  romp.  At  least  her  phys 
ical  liveliness  impels  her  far  in  that  direction; 
and  yet  she  is  not  rude  of  manner.  Her  hair  is 
as  red  as  an  anarchist's  flag,  and  her  eyes,  as  I 
now  shut  my  own  and  reproduce  them,  are  of  an 


I04  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

undefined  color  that  exists  somewhere  between 
blue  and  violet.  I  know  nothing  of  the  quality  of 
her  mind.  She  talked  but  I  heard  only  the  sweet 
ness  of  her  voice. 

"I  am  going  ahead  with  the  improvement  of  my 
farm,  and  of  course  I  take  a  pride  in  the  work,  but 
at  times  I  feel  so  heavy  a  sense  of  loneliness  that 
I  am  tempted  to  hustle  to  my  den  in  Randolph 
street.  But  this,  I  know  will  wear  away." 

The  hour  was  growing  late;  he  had  just  closed 
his  letter  when  there  came  a  startling  knock  at  his 
door.  He  hastened  to  open  it  and  when  he  did, 
the  lamp-light  fell  upon  the  professor  of  moral 
philosophy. 

"Excuse  me,  but  may  I  come  in?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Hawley. 

"I  know  it  is  rude  to  disturb  you  at  such  a  time 
of  night,"  the  Professor  remarked,  stepping  into 
the  room,  "but  I  had  to  break  the  silence  with 
some  one,  and  not  with  a  fool,  a  clod,  but  with  a 
man." 

"Sit  down,"  said  Hawley. 

"I  thank  you  for  your  generous  courtesy,  sir." 

He  sat  down  and    for  a  time   leaned   over  and 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

held  his  head  in  his  hands.  "I  didn't  come  to  talk 
about  the  university,"  he  declared.  "To-night  I 
have  been  tortured  into  a  zone  far  beyond  the  con 
fines  of  a  business  transaction.  I  went  to  bed  and 
tried  to  sleep  but  couldn't;  the  dead  silence  of  my 
room  tied  itself  about  my  neck  and  choked  me." 
He  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  rolled  his  eyes 
upward.  Suddenly  he  broke  out  with  this  impre 
cation:  "The  devil  is  an  infernal  fool!" 

"If  a  fool  at  all,"  Hawley  replied,  "he  must  be 
an  infernal  fool ;  but  he  is  generally  credited  with 
being  dangerously  wise." 

"Yes,  generally  accredited  so  by  those  who  are 
fools  themselves,"  the  professor  rejoined.  "What 
has  he  done  to  improve  his  opportunities?  He  is 
acknowledged  to  be  the  master  of  all  evil,  but  for 
thousands  of  years  he  has  remained  satisfied  with 
the  reputation  of  his  early  days.  This  is  not  con 
sistent  with  power,  with  satanic  logic."  He  gave 
himself  to  brief  though  troubled  meditation  and 
then  said:  "Suppose  that  everything  which  God 
has  been  called  upon  to  damn  had  been  damned? 
Think  of  it!"  he  almost  shouted.  "Would  there 
be  a  man  living  in  the  world,  and  would  there  be  a 


IO6  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

thing  existing.  There  would  be  no  inventions,  for 
the  inventor,  harassed  by  the  repeated  disappoint 
ments  that  nearly  always  precede  success,  has,  in 
the  hour  of  despair,  called  upon  the  Lord  to  damn 
his  machine.  A  man  drives  a  nail  and  mashes  his 
finger.  Then  what  does  he  do?  He  calls  down 
a  curse  upon  the  hammer  and  the  nail;  and  so  I 
affirm  that  man  has  damned  everything,  and  if  the 
appeal  of  his  passion  and  his  anger  had  met  with 
response,  the  gates  of  torment  would  burst  with 
the  pressure  of  the  rubbish  within.  Cows,  horses, 
mules,  nails,  hammers,  saws,  cooking  stoves,  tin 
pans,  dogs,  cats,  shirt  collars,  shoe  strings,  buttons, 
human  beings,  oceans,  rivers,  patent  medicines, 
newspapers,  hot  weather,  cold  weather— all, 
damned  by  the  wish  of  man,  would  be  packed 
within  the  bulging  walls  of  perdition." 

"Professor,  don't  you  think  you'd  better  go  to 
bed?"  Hawley  asked. 

"What,  and  be  burnt  by  the  pillows  and  scorched 
by  the  sheets?  No,  I  want  to  walk  abroad  and  I 
want  you  to  walk  with  me." 

"No,  not  to-night." 

"Not  to-night,  when    you    know    that   you    will 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

suffocate  here?  Under  the  moon  somewhere  there 
is  a  cool  and  quiet  place — a  place,  perhaps,  that 
man  has  not  called  upon  God  to  damn.  But  this 
place  has  been  damned,  many  and  many  a  time. 
Let  me  out." 

He  jumped  from  the  chair,  threw  open  the  door 
with  a  slam  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 
There  was  a  rumble  as  if  a  storm  were  coming, 
and  Hawley  heard  Aunt  Lily  going  about  the 
house,  closing  down  the  windows.  He  called  her 
and  when  she  had  come,  he  said  to  her:  "The 
professor  was  here  a  moment  ago,  and  he's  as  wild 
as  a  mountain  hog.  Do  you  think  there's  any 
danger  of  his  killing  himself?" 

"Oh,  none  er  tall,  sah ;  not  de  leas'  in  de  worl'. 
He  git  dat  way  some  times  but  it  soon  w'ar  off. 
Da  had  'im  in  de  silum  once,  but  da  lowed  dar 
want  no  use  in  keepin'  'im  dar.  He'll  be  all  right 
by  ter-mar.  Lem  me  caution  you  ter  put  down  de 
winders  in  dis  room  ef  de  rain  comes  an'  I  think 
hit  will.  Is  dar  anythin'  else  you  wanted,  sah?" 

"No,  nothing  else." 

"Does  you  fee.1  like  eatin'  er  snack?  Dar's  plenty 
cooked  out  yander." 


108  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"No,  I  don't  care  for  anything." 
"Wall,  you'sepuffectly  welcome  ter  hit  ef  you 
does.     Good  night." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  grass  is  still  green  and  the  leaves  are  but 
slightly  turning,  but  the  low  and  languorous  hum  of 
the  insect  has  been  keyed  to  a  sharp,  snappy  cry. 
The  sun  is  still  hot  and  the  cows  still  stand  in  the 
pond  where  the  shade  falls  at  noon-time,  but  as  we 
walk  abroad  in  the  woodland,  an  impression  seems 
to  fall  from  above  like  a  dead  leaf;  and  this  im 
pression  is  the  regretful  feeling  that  summer  is  at 
an  end.  The  warm  weather  that  now  may  follow 
is  but  an  unseasonable  flush.  Down  the  dry 
branch  in  the  valley  we  hear  the  wind  sighing,  and 
we  know  that  the  next  rain  will  throw  a  chill  on 
the  air. 

The  carpenters  and  laborers  that  had  been 
summoned  to  repair  the  out-houses  and  mend  the 
stone-walls  of  Ingleview  were  done  with  their  work, 
and  so  completely  was  the  old  stock-farm  brought 
back  to  life  that  only  here  and  there,  in  by-places, 

remained  the  evidences  of  its  wasted  and  decaying 

109 


HO  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

state.  Hawley  had  become  well  acquainted  with 
the  social  life  of  the  community.  He  had  gone  to 
barbecues,  had  eaten  shote  on  the  grass,  had 
caught  the  smile  of  mothers  who  were  leading 
their  daughters  to  market;  had  listened  with  pre 
tended  concern  to  the  candidate  who  had  his. 
memory  on  Henry  Clay  and  his  eye  on  Congress 
He  fell  or  lolled  over  into  the  easy  ways  of  the 
town,  but  he  soon  discovered  that  with  all  their 
good-natured,  engaging  talk,  the  people  were  sharp 
when  it  came  to  a  trade.  In  their  homes  they 
spoke  not  of  business;  there  the  guest  was  received 
with  a  refined  and  gracious  hospitality,  but  at  the 
"store"  they  weighed  out  their  groceries  with  the 
nicest  precision,  and  in  a  transaction  which  involved 
a  horse,  they  evinced  a  quick  perception  and  a 
tricky  shrewdness. 

Into  the  Judge's  house  Hawley  was  welcomed 
with  the  easy  intimacy  of  established  friendship. 
He  caught  the  humor  of  the  place,  its  moods, 
frettings,  prejudices,  and  slyly  laughed  at  them. 
And  the  girl,  with  equal  slyness,  helped  him  along 
with  his  mirth.  At  times  Mrs.  Trapnell  was  so 
smooth  as  to  appear  positively  glossed  with 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  III 

urbanity.  The  county  paper,  with  its  death-notices 
of  old  acquaintances,  toned  her  to  appreciative 
gentleness.  It  was  then  that  she  might  permit  the 
Judge's  old  dog  to  lie  in  the  hall,  with  never  a 
shout  or  a  rush  with  a  broom  or  a  threat  to  take 
off  his  hide  with  hot  water.  But  at  other  times, 
though,  her  temper  was  as  frowzy  as  the  feathers 
of  a  rough  grouse. 

One  afternoon  she  whisked  into  a  room  where 
the  Judge  sat,  reading.  The  moment  he  heard  her 
he  knew  that  something  was  wrong  and  he  put  his 
book  aside. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  you  are  concerned  enough  to  inquire,  are 
you?  I  didn't  think  you  cared  that  much." 

"Now,  madam,  what's  the  use  of  talking  that 
way?  If  there's  anything  wrong  tell  me  and  if  I 
can  help  it  I  will." 

"Yes,  that's  what  you  always  say  but  you  never 
do.  Here  I  stick  all  the  time  and  nobody  cares 
whether  I  go  off  the  place  or  not.  I  just  won't 
stand  it  any  longer." 

"I  don't  know  that  anybody  has  been  trying  to 
keep  you  from  going  off  the  place,  madam.  There 
are  horses  and  a  carriage  out  yonder." 


112  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

She  bowed  mockingly  and  said:  "Indeed!  Oh, 
I  suppose  I  could  drive  up  and  down  the  pike,  but 
who  wants  to  do  that?" 

"But  what  law  compels  you  to  drive  up  and 
down  the  pike?" 

She  looked  at  him  scornfully.  "What  else  could 
I  do?  I've  got  nothing  to  wear." 

"But  whose  fault  is  that?  There  are  stores  in 
.town." 

Then  she  began  to  cry.  The  judge  got  up.  "By 
the  Eternal,  madam,  you  are  enough  to  make  a 
saint  turn  about  and  rend  his  religion.  Go  ahead 
and  whimper  now  till  you  have  whimpered  yourself 
out." 

"I  don't  know  why  I  ever  married  you,"  she 
whined. 

"And  by  the  Eternal,  if  you  ever  do  strike  that 
key-note,  sound  it  once  for  me.  I  don't  know 
what^to  do;  I  don't  know  what  you  want." 

"Oh,  I  know  you  hate  me,"  she  whined.  "I 
know  you  wish  me  dead." 

"You  are  trying  your  best,  madam,  to  have  me 
do  so." 

"You  never  did  love  me." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  113 

"Now  that's  detestable  nonsense.  Come  sit 
down  here,"  he  said  in  tones  quickly  softened, 
"and  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is." 

She  suffered  him  to  take  her  by  the  arm  and 
together  they  sat  down  on  a  sofa.  "Now  tell  me 
what's  gone  wrong?" 

"Oh,  everything,  and  besides  it's  so  lonesome 
out  here.  It  wouldn't  cost  any  more  to  live  in 
town." 

His  brow  wrinkled  with  a  frown;  it  was  the  out 
ward  show  of  an  inward  struggle.  "Mandy,  I  had 
so  earnestly  hoped  that  you  would  never  mention 
that  again.  You  know  that  I  was  born  here." 

"But  people  don't  have  to  live  where  they  were 
born,  do  they?" 

"A  capital  argument,  by  the  Eternal;  a  home- 
thrust  of  logic." 

He  got  up  and  with  his  hands  held  behind  him, 
walked  about  the  room.  And  thus  he  went  on: 
"In  one  particular,  man,  it  matters  not  how  wise 
he  may  be,  is  dough-brained  .and  learns  not  by 
experience.  He  attempts  to  reason  with  a  woman 
who  scorning  argument,  talks  from  pettish  impulse." 

"I  am  not  as  dough-brained  as  you    think,  sir." 

Tennessee  Judge    8 


114  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

He  wheeled  about  and  looked  at  her.  "There 
you  go,  listening  to  no  reason  but  snapping  at  a 
sound.  Mandy,  you  can  be  so  gentle  and  so  com 
forting  at  times.  Summon  your  other  self  and 
keep  her  near  me,  and  banish  forever  the  self  you 
now  present.  Between  your  two  selves,  I  am 
dragged  about  from  a  heaven  to  a  hell.  I  am  very 
old — perhaps,"  he  broke  off,  "this  is  the  reason 
that  you  are  beginning  to  despise  me." 

"Judge,  please  don't  talk  that  way." 

"Yes,  you  are  beginning  to  despise  me  and  to 
brow-beat  me  more  and  more,  and  all  because  I 
have  out-lived  my  time  and  continue  to  stumble  in 
this  new  generation." 

He  covered  his  face  with  his    wrinkled    hands. 

"Please  forgive  me,"  'she  implored,  springing 
from  the  sofa  and  throwing  her  arms  about  him. 
"I  wouldn't  wound  that  great  heart  of  yours — 
that  noble  soul!  Of  course  you  mustn't  sell  this 
old  place;  we  couldn't  find  another  that  would  suit 
us  half  as  well.  No  place  in  town  would,  I'm  sure." 

Ida  came  into  the  room  with  a  bound,  but  catch 
ing  the  scene,  she  stepped  back  and  said:  "Don't 
let  me  interrupt  you,  but  Mr.  Hawley's  in  the 
parlor." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  I  I  5 

The  Judge,  as  though  with  a  tangible  grasp, 
snatched  unto  himself  the  stiffness  of  a  stately 
though  courteous  dignity  and,  his  wife,  in  a  flutter 
of  haste,  dried  her  eyes  and  wiped  from  her  face 
the  marks  of  tender  repentance. 

"Glad  to  see  you,"  said  the  Judge,  entering  the 
parlor. 

"Delighted,"  declared  Mrs.  Trapnell.  "The 
Judge  and  I  were  just  this  minute  talking  about 
you.  Now,  you  know  we  were,  Judge,"  she  quickly 
added,  shaking  her  finger  at  the  old  gentleman. 
"Please  do  tell  me  the  news.  I  haven't  heard  a 
thing  for  a  week.  Oh,  I  suppose  you  heard  of 
Miss  Lester's  marriage;  did  so  well,  too.  And  isn't 
it  too  bad  that  Captain  Haynes  had  his  collar-bone 
broken?  We  never  know  what  next  to  expect, 
I'm  sure.  Wasn't  the  death  of  Mrs.  Marvin  awful? 
The  Lord  knows  what  those  poor  little  children 
will  do  without  her.  Ida,  bring  Mr.  Hawley  a 
drink  of  water.  I  know  he  must  be  thirsty."' 

"You'd  better  bring  some  mint,  Ida,"  was  the 
Judge's  amendment  to  this  command. 

"I  don't  mind  going  after  it,  gramper,"  she  re 
plied,  "but  I  think  the  mint  bed  is  all  dried  up." 


Il6  A  TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"But  will  you  go  and  see?" 

"Yes,  sir,  but  I  was  there  yesterday,  and  it  was 
all  yellow." 

"But  will  you  go?" 

"Yes,  sir,  I  said  I  would.  Now,  what  are  you 
laughing  at,  Mr.  Hawley?" 

As  her  stock  of  argument  was  exhausted,  as 
there  was  now  no  turn  except  in  the  direction  of 
obedience,  she  hastened  away  as  one  moved  by 
impulse;  and  Mrs.-  Trapnell,  a  moment  later, 
suddenly  declared:  "Gracious,  I  do  believe  she 
has  fallen  down  the  steps.  No,  she  hasn'  teither. 
I  declare,  she  keeps  me  scared  half  thet  ime. 
We  can't  trust  her  on  a  horse — she'll  gallop 
him  right  over  a  fence.  I've  done  my  best  to  tone 
her  down,  I'm  sure." 

"Oh,  she  isn't  so  wild,"  said  the  Judge.  "She 
takes  strongly  after  her  father,  and  he  was  as  high- 
spirited  as  a  prancing  horse.  There's  his  picture," 
he  added,  pointing  to  a  portrait  which  Hawley 
had  often  noticed,  hanging  above  the  mantle-piece. 

"Yes,"  Hawley  remarked,  "you  told  me  about 
him  some  time  ago  when  I  asked  you  about  the 
picture."  Was  the  visitor,  with  the  Chicago  man's 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

dread  of  a  long  story  repeated,  in  a  fear  that  the 
old  man  would  again  tell  him  that  his  son  had  won 
distinction  at  the  bar,  married  a  handsome  woman, 
that  she  had  died  within  two  years,  and  that-  the 
son  had  then  gone  to  the  Black  Hills  where  he  was 
murdered  by  a  ruffian? 

"So  I  did,"  said  the  Judge;  and  after  a  moment 
he  added:  "To  much  restraint  sows  the  seeds  of 
hypocrisy.  Take  the  preacher  as  an  example.  He 
is  under  the  watchful  eye  of  a  community,  and  as 
a  result,  his  children  are  subjected  to  a  suppression 
of  what  he  regards  as  an  undue  outbreak  of  animal 
life.  And  whose  children,  let  me  ask,  are  more 
likely  to  be  mean  and  deceitful?" 

."I  am  not  prepared  and  neither  am  I  inclined  to 
dispute  the  point  with  you,"  Hawley  replied.  "I 
think  the  worst  wooling  I  ever  got  was  by  two 
boys,  the  sons  of  a  clergyman." 

The  Judge  grunted.  "Ha,"  said  he,  "I  remem 
ber — and  as  well  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday — that 
when  a  boy  I  was  swimming  in  the  creek,  right  down 
yonder,  when  along  came  the  son  of  a  Hard  Shell 
Baptist  preacher.  What  did  he  do?  He  snatched 
off  his  clothes,  jumped  in  and  by  the  Eternal,  he 
tried  to  drown  me." 


IT8  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Being  the  son  of  a  Baptist,"  Hawley  replied, 
"he  naturally  took  to  immersion." 

"Yes,  I  gad,  sir,  and  having  been  held  under  the 
rod  all  his  life  he  naturally  took  to  deviltry  when 
he  got  away  from  home.  Well,  did  you  find  any 
mint?"  he  asked  as  Ida  entered  the  room. 

"Yes,  sir,  but  I  really  didn't  expect  to.  It  isn't 
very  fresh,  after  all." 

"Nonsense,  child,  it's  as  fresh  as  a  shower. 
Let  me  see,"  he  added,  looking  at  his  watch,  "it's 
hardly  my  time  to  take  a  drink  yet." 

"But  perhaps  it's  Mr.  Hawley's  time,"  Mrs. 
Trapnell  suggested. 

"No,"  Hawley  replied,  "I  have  no  regular  time." 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  Judge,  "we'll  wait  a  while. 
Put  the  mint  in  some  cold  water  and  let  it  brew  a 
while.  Hawley,  I  suppose  you  notice  that  I  never 
send  a  negro  after  mint.  And  now,  sir,  I'll  tell  you 
what's  a  fact.  You  may  trust  a  negro  with  your 
horse,  and  sometimes  you  may  even  let  him  wan 
der  out  of  your  sight  with  your  money,  but  you 
can't  trust  him  with  mint.  I  don't  know  why  it  is, 
but  if  there's  but  one  yellow  sprig  in  the  bed  he'll 
get  it;  and  not  only  this,  he's  likely  in  pulling 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  IIQ 

up  the  mint  to  bring  along  rank  grass  or  even 
smart  weed." 

"I  received  a  letter  the  other  day  from  my  old 
friend  Dr.  Ford,"  Hawley  remarked,  "and  he  takes 
occasion  to  examine  the  negro  problem  in  the 
South." 

"Hah,  he  does,  eh."  The  old  man  looked  as 
though  he  had  just  heard  that  some  one  had  in 
fringed  upon  one  of  his  rights.  "What  does  he 
know  about  the  negro  problem  in  the  South;  and 
who  shall  say  that  there  is  a  negro  problem  in  the 
South?  Here  is  a  race  that  is  compelled  to  work 
for  a  living.  Is  that  a  problem  any  more  than  the 
condition  of  the  working  people  throughout  the 
country?  The  negro's  all  right ;  just  let  him  alone. 
But  I  will  admit  that  at  times  he  is  a  disturbing 
element  in  politics;  so  is  the  Irishman.  But  the 
negro  never  excites  a  labor  revolt,  and  rarely  does 
he  follow  when  one  has  been  excited.  If  it  hadn't 
been  for  that  un-ripe  decision,  that  near-sighted 
act  which  gave  him  the  right  to  vote  so  soon  after 
having  been  a  slave,  the  negro  would  have  met 
with  no  trouble  whatever." 

It  was  a  moment   before   Hawley  replied,  and 


I2O  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

when  he  did,  his  voice  was  so  solemn  and  his  words 
were  so  measured  that  the  old  man  looked  at  him 
in  astonishment.  "It  is  a  religion  with  me  to  be 
lieve  that  Lincoln  stands  next  to  Jesus  Christ,"  he 
said. 

A  silence  followed.  The  old  man  saw  that  his 
visitor's  conviction  was  indeed  a  religion  with  him, 
that  it  was  as  a  root  that  had  grown  to  the  very 
bottom  of  his  nature.  The  image  of  old  Jackson 
flew  to  his  mind.  Again  he  saw  him,  grave  and 
severe  in  his  greatness,  standing  amid  a  reverential 
throng  at  the  Hermitage,  above  flattery,  the  devotee 
of  truth,  the  defender  of  honor,  an  instrument 
through  which  God  flashed  His  own  awful  wrath. 
But  it  was  not  possible  that  he  could  make  other 
men  see  this  majestic  picture;  and  with  deep  devo 
tion  he  blurred  the  scene  and  simply  said:  "Yes, 
Lincoln  was  a  great  man ;  and  he  was  a  Southerner, 
too." 

Mrs.  Trapnell  had  stepped  out  into  the  hall. 
"Judge,  please  come  here  a  minute;"  she  called 
and  when  he  joined  her  she  asked:  "Is  it  possible 
that  you're  blind?" 

"Blind!     I  don't  understand  you." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  12 1 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  can't    see?" 

"See  what?" 

"Oh,  can't  you  see  that  he  has  come  to  call  on 
Ida?" 

"Why,  I  hadn't  thought  of  such  a  thing.  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"Because  I  didn't  know  it  until  just  this  minute." 

"Well,  but  how  do  you  know  it  now,  if  that's 
the  case?"' 

"I  know  it  well  enough.  Come,  we'll  walk  in 
the  garden." 

"We  will,  but  first  let  me  excuse  myself.  But 
I  don't  know  that  I  want  Ida  to  receive  company 
at  her  age." 

"Oh,  she's  been  going  to  balls  and  parties  for  a 
year.  Oh,  Mr.  Hawley,  the  Judge  and  I  are  going 
out  for  a  moment.  Excuse  us,  please," 

Ida  sat  on  the  piano  stool,  leaning  back.  How 
careless  she  was  and  how  shapely,  too;  with  the 
natural  grace  of  a  young  leopard,  with  the  frank 
ness  of  unconcerned  innocence,  and  yet  with  a 
laughing,  good-humored  shrewdness,  an  intuition 
wiser  than  a  moral  lesson,  conscious  of  respectable 
lineage  and  therefore  inclined  to  be  adventurous; 


122  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

at  one  moment  a  woman  and  at  the  next  moment  a 
child.  The  glow  of  her  hair  gave  a  warmth  of 
color  to  her  neck,  and  Hawley,  as  he  sat  looking 
at  her,  thought  that  he  had  never  seen  so  capti 
vating  a  picture.  She  blushed  at  the  silence  that 
fell  between  them,  and  then  laughed  at  it;  she 
swung  one  foot,  and  then  realizing  that  she  had 
received  him  as  "company,"  she  sought  to  dignify 
herself  by  making  a  sober  remark. 

"You  have  some  very  queer  neighbors  near  you," 
she  said. 

"Yes,  particularly  John  Roark  and  his  sister,  the 
widow  Binson." 

"Do  they  come  over  to  see  you?" 

"Yes,  quite  frequently." 

"She  doesn't  come,  does  she?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Strange  sort  of  woman,  don't  you 
think  so?" 

"I  don't  know  much  about  her.  They  don't 
really  belong  here — don't  know  where  they  came 
from.  They  have  been  living  here  some  time,  and, 
gramper  says,  they  rent  first  one  farm  and  then 
another.  We  sometimes  plague  grams  by  telling 
her  that  her  cousin  Charley  Willis  tried  to  marry 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  1 23 

the  widow,  and  I  don't  know  but  it's  true.  Gramper 
says  that  he  has  been  married  just  enough  times 
not  to  care  how  many  more-times  he  does  get  mar 
ried.  Do  you  read  many  books?" 

"No,  not  a  great  many.  I  take  the  magazines 
and  try  to  make  it  a  point  to  keep  up  with  the  new 
books  of  importance." 

"Did  you  ever  read  St.  Elmo?" 

"I  tried  to  a  number  of  years  ago,  but  it  was  too 
wordy  for  me." 

"I  used  to  think  it  was  the  greatest  book  ever 
written,"  she  said.  "I  didn't  mind  its  wordiness; 
I  was  after  its  romance.  I  remember  my  chum 
and  I  at  school  used  to  steal  out  of  bed  and  try  to 
read  it  by  the  moon.  They  wouldn't  let  us  have 
a  light.  I  found  it  the  other  day  and  tried  to  read 
it  but  my  taste  for  it  was  gone.  I  suppose  it's  be 
cause  we  want  truth  as  we  grow  older.  Now,  what 
are  you  laughing  at  ?  You  are  always  laughing  at 
me.  Don't  you  suppose  I'm  old  enough  to  want 
truth?  I  am." 

"Oh,  of  course  I  know  you  want  truth,  but  I 
didn't  suppose  you  had  passed  the  romantic  age." 

"Well,  I  haven't  done  that;   I  don't  believe  any- 


124  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

body  does.  But  even  romance  must  have  some 
truth.  Girls  read  stronger  books  than  they  used 
to;  and  though  they  may  be  just  as  innocent,  yet 
they  know  more  than  they  did." 

"Yes,"  Hawley  replied,  "and  that  is  as  it  should 
be,  since  knowledge  is  the  protector  of  both  men 
and  women.  But  I  don't  like  to  see  a  young  girl 
over  wise,  as  we  often  find  them  in  the  cities,  for 
in  all  wisdom  there  is  a  tincture  of  cynicism." 

"But  it  may  be  possible  to  catch  the  wisdom 
and  miss  the  tincture." 

He  looked  at  her  and  smiled.  Was  this  the  child 
that  had  been  sitting  there,  swinging  her  foot? 

The  supper  bell  rang.  "Come,"  said  the  Judge, 
looking  in  the  door,  "our  juleps  are  ready." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Hawley  walked  through  the  fields,  on  his  way 
home.  Strange  and  unwonted  thoughts,  jumbled 
and  half  formed,  rushed  through  his  mind.  Some 
times  with  swift  stride  he  ripped  through  the  dead, 
tangled  clover,  and  then  with  strolling  pace  he 
moved  slowly  along.  Darkness  lay  upon  the  land 
scape  and  the  distant  timber  was  a  border  of  total 
blackness.  Autumn  was  in  the  air,  with  its  sud 
den  puffs  of  coolness,  but  tranquillity  was  not  in 
the  air.  A  man's  strong  emotions  were  surging, 
like  water  that  leaps  and  falls  under  a  wind.  No 
meditative  walk  in  the  fields  of  Elysia  was  this; 
no  sweet  musing  over  the  beauty,  the  freshness  of 
a  smile,  but  a  half-mad  fight,  a  rebellion,  a  passion 
almost  enraged  at  itself.  The  common  sense  im 
bued  by  a  practical,  commercial  school,  flew  to 
pieces  like  glass  smashed  by  a  heavy  blow.  The 
strong  blood  of  viking  ancestors,  cool  so  long  in  the 
chilly  veins  of  trade,  now  leaped  with  heat.  Who 


126  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

is  so  frenzied  a  religionist  as  the  man  that  has  been 
an  infidel;  who  so  visionary  a  spiritualist  as  one 
that  has  turned  from  materialism?  Man  may 
reason  and  find  conversion  in  the  light  of  his  own 
argument;  ideas  like  a  flight  of  birds  may  fill  this 
modern  air;  science,  thought,  exactness  of  speech, 
precision  of  conduct,  a  mountain  top  of  intellectual 
training  may  be  reached — and  yet,  a  strong  man's 
love,  fashioned  unconsciously  and  then  suddenly 
electrified  with  life,  is  much  of  a  madness  as  it 
was  when  the  breath  of  Almighty  creation  had  just 
been  breathed  upon  the  earth. 

He  passed  through  the  clover-land  and  had 
reached  the  old  race-track  when  a  form,  darker 
than  the  night,  crossed  his  path. 

"Who's  that?"    . 

"A  loiterer  on  the  face  of  the  earth,"  a  voice 
answered.  ' 

"Is  it  you,  Professor?" 

"Yes,  and  I  am  abroad,  feeling  of  the  night's  dull 
pulse." 

"I  greet  you,  old  man.  I  am  almost  as  mad  as 
you  are." 

They  stood  facing  each  other.     "Reason  may 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

run  wild  and  yet  it  is  not  madness,   sir,"  the    Pro 
fessor  replied      "May  I  walk  with  you?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  and  talk  in  crazy  harmony  with  my 
thoughts." 

"Mr.  Hawley,  are  you  drunk?" 

They  walked  along  in  silence.  "Mr.  Hawley,  I 
say  you  are  drunk." 

"I  am." 

"Mint  juleps,  Mr.  Hawley?" 

"Yes,  and  the  mint  was  gathered  in  the  garden 
of  Eden." 

"And  where  did  the  liquor  come  from?" 

"Perhaps  from  the  original  distillery." 

"Where  is  that,  Mr.  Hawley?" 

"In  hell." 

"Mr.  Hawley,  you  are  not  only  drunk;  but 
applying  my  moral  philosophy,  I  should  say  that 
you  are  as  crazy  as  a  bat." 

Hawley   laughed   and   reason,  thus   summoned, 
returned  to  him.      "No,  I'm  not  crazy,  Professor.- 
I  was  simply  amusing  myself." 

"It  is  well  to  turn  it  off,  Mr.  Hawley,  but  some 
thing  was  on  your  mind.  That  laugh  probably 
saved  you  a  thousand  groans.  But  wait  till  we 


128  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

build  our  university;  then  we'll  investigate  all  this. 
We'll  show  the  strong  man  that  after  all  he  is  a 
pitiable  weakling.  At  one  moment  he  may  drive 
a  bargain  that  will  scrape  the  skin  off  his  adversary; 
the  next  moment  the  mischief  dancing  in  a  bright 
eye  may  rob  him  of  his  reason."  He  stopped 
abruptly  and  said:  "An  awful  thought  came  to 
me  back  there.  It  wasn't  a  thought;  it  was  a 
realization.  It  was  this:  What  is  the  sea  but 
the  tears  that  have  been  shed  by  the  sorrowing 
children  of  men?  The  sea  has  its  tide,  and  what 
is  that  but  the  emotion,  the  grief  swell  that  is  still 
alive  in  those  briny  drops?  Wait!"  Hawley started 
to  go  on  but  the  Professor  rudely  held  him  back. 

"Think  of  this,  for  we  are  going  to  teach  it  in 
our  philosophy." 

"All  right,  Professor,  I'll  think  of  it." 

"Will  you?  Then  with  God's  blessing,  I  will 
bid  you  good-night." 

Hawley,  upon  reaching  home,  found  the  negro 
Ben  and  the  morphine  eater,  sitting  on  a  bench  in 
the  yard,  disputing  with  each  other. 

"I  ain't  claimin'  ter  cut  off  nobody's  laig,"  the 
negro  "physician"  declared.  "I  cures  de  flesh  but 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  I2Q 

I  ain'  got  much  truck  wid  de  bone.  You  cuts  de 
bone,  but  you  kain  lift  up  de  heaviness  o'  de  flesh. 
Skuze  me,  sah,  but  look  out  dar  Mr.  Hawley — 
come  in  one  o'  callin'  'im  Mars  Bob  er  gin — I.say 
look  out  dar,  an'  doan  kick  ober  dat  kittle  o' 
medicine.  I'se  jest  b'iled  it  an'  has  put  it  dar  ter 
cool.  Monstus  sick  pusson  ober  de  creek  needs  it 
right  now." 

"And  I  pity  him  when  he  gets  it,"  said  Dr.  Moffet. 

"Oh,  you  'tends  ter,  but  you  knows  you  'gratu- 
latin'  'im  right  now.  Man  wants  ter  git  well;  darfo 
he  sont  fur  me.  But  neber  mine,  Dock;  w'en  he 
gits  all  his  er  fars  straightened  up  an'  wants  ter 
bid  farwell  ter  dis  yere  yeth,  he  mout  sen'  fur  you 
sometime." 

Moffet  turned  to  Hawley.  "If  you  don't  make 
this  black  rascal  cease  insulting  me,  I'll  hurt  him." 

"I  ain'  'sultin'  you,  sah.  Mr.  Hawley  kin  see 
dat.  It's  jest  er  little  skussion  'tween  two  doctors 
da  doan  'long  ter  de  same  school.  I  doan  blame 
you  fur  stickin  'ter  yo'  school." 

"School!"  the  Doctor  scornfully  repeated;  "you 
never  saw  a  school.  You  are  an  ignorant  pretender 
and  if  the  officers  of  the  law  had  any  respect  for 
the  community  they  would  lock  you  up." 

9 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Yas,  sahj  dat's  one  view  o'  de  case,  one  view  by 
de  uder  school.  An'  I'll  say  right  yere  dat  I  reckon 
you  kin  out  argy  me,  caze  de  school  dat  I  'longs 
ter  would  ruther  cure  a  pusson  up  den  ter  talk  'im 
down.  Cose  we  kain  all  'long  ter  de  same  school, 
an'  I  doan  blame  you  fur  goin'  off  dar  wharyouis." 
Aunt  Lily  opened  a  door  and  stood  there,  holding 
a  lamp.  "Why,  dar's  Miss  Lily,  sheddin'  light 
on  de  subjeck." 

"Hush,  triflin'  man,  I  ain'  got  no  time  ter  talk 
wid  you,"  she  replied.  "White  folks  claimin'  all 
my  time  now.  Mr.  Hawley  is  dat  you  out  dar? 
W'y,  sah,  dar's  comp'ny  in  de  big  room  ter  see 
you." 

"You  mean  the  library,  don't  you?" 

"Yas,  sah,  you  mout  call  it  dat,  but  it's  de  big 
room  all  de  same.  Ben,  I  ain'  gwine  gib  you  er 
mouf'l  ter  eat  in  de  mawnin'  lessen  you  git  me 
some  wood  dis  bery  night.  Da's  been  yere  some 
little  time  waitin'  fur  you,  Mr.  Hawley.  Bless  de 
Lawd,  de  win'  dun  blowed  out  my  lamp." 

In  the  library  Hawley  found  John  Roark  and 
his  sister,  the  widow  Binson.  He  did  not  like 
them,  the  sight  of  them  angered  him,  and  if  he 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  131 

treated  them  with  politeness  it  was  not  without  a 
strong  effort.  Roark's  manner  was  offensive,  with 
an  abruptness  which  he  thought  to  play  for  good 
nature;  he  was  burly  and  red,  was  loud  in  his  talk 
of  the  majesty  of  the  people,  aspired  to  be  a  leader 
among  the  lowly,  sought  petty  office  and  at  one 
time  had  stirred  up  trouble  at  the  polls.  Like  all 
men  who  disgust  the  thoughtful,  he  had  disciples 
among  the  thoughtless. 

His  sister  was  a  skinny,  repellent,  shrewd-look 
ing  creature.  She  rejoiced  that  the  day  of  woman's 
emancipation  was  coming,  and  talked  on  delicate 
subjects  with  the  freedom  of  a  surgeon.  She  was 
past  thirty,  had  buried  a  husband,  desired  to  catch 
another  and  was  now  casting  her  net.  Unim 
portant  this  brother  and  sister  appeared  to  Hawley, 
and  yet  in  his  drama  they  were  to  play  near  the 
foot-lights. 

They  were  making  themselves  at  home  when  the 
master  of  the  house  entered  the  room;  the  brother 
was  smoking  and  the  sister  was  eating  something 
which  Aunt  Lily  had  brought  in  on  a  plate!  Roark 
jumped  up  and  bellowed,  "Oh,  here  you  are. 
Thought  you'd  run  away;  glad  you  haven't. 


!22  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

Couldn't  get  along  without  you  now  that  we've  got 
used  to  you.  Nan  and  I  thought  we'd  drop  in. 
Didn't  know  but  you  might  be  lonesome." 

The  woman  put  the  plate  away,  wiped  her  mouth, 
smirked  and  at  once  began:  "We  are  so  uncon 
ventional,  you  know.  I  can't  bear  form;  oh,  I  do 
detest  it.  Woman  has  always  been  the  slave  of 
form,  so  I  say,  let  us  be  natural.  You  are  looking 
so  well,  Mr.  Hawley.  This  part  of  the  country 
must  agree  with  you.  I  declare,  how  you  have 
fixed  up  this  place.  I  told  John  as  we  came  along 
that  I  scarcely  recognized  it.  So  nice  to  have 
money  enough  to  carry  out  your  wishes.  So  bad 
to  be  hampered  in  everything.  Have  I  got  your 
favorite  chair?" 

"No,  sit  down.  It's  turned  warmer,"  he  added, 
seating  himself. 

"Well,  no;  I  was  telling  John  just  now  that  'it 
had  turned  cooler." 

"Probably  it  has,"  he  dryly  agreed. 

Thus  they  talked,  saying  nothing.  The  old  clock 
whanged,  and  whanged  the  time  away;  Aunt  Lily 
was  heard  making  her  nightly  rounds,  closing  the 
doors,  and  still  these  tiresome  visitors  sat  and 


A    TENNSSSEE    JUDGE  133 

gabbled — breathed  a  weariness  upon  each  lagging 
moment.  If  Hawley's  thoughts  flew  away  they 
were  seized  and  brought  back  with  a  jerk;  if  in  a 
moment  of  silence  he  dreamed,  he  awoke  with  a 
night-mare. 

At  last  they  were  gone,  and  after  shutting  the 
door  upon  them,  he  sat  down  to  think.  An  image 
was  in  his  soul  and  he  gazed  upon  it,  dazzled. 
Reason  came  as  a  critic,  and  pointed  out  flaws, 
but  the  criticism  was  rejected;  the  cold,  technical 
terms  of  the  anatomist  must  not  be  applied  to  the 
form  of  Venus. 

He  wrote  to  Dr.  Ford:  "I  am  in  love,"  he  said, 
"and  I  shall  discuss  no  problem  with  you.  You 
may  regard  it  a  miracle  if  I  even  write  with  a 
modicum  of  good  sense.  You  regard  me  as  a  man 
of  a  certain  sort  of  action  rather  than  a  man  of 
thought,  and  in  a  strict  sense  I  know  that  I  am  not 
a  thinker,  but  after  all  who  thinks  more  intently 
than  the  man  of  action,  and  who  is  more  disturbed 
by  thought?  You  have  often  talked  to  me  about 
marriage,  recognizing  it  as  a  sort  of  advantage,  and 
you  have  spoken  of  the  suitability  of  temperament, 
but  you  have  never  even  hinted  at  love.  I  believe 


134  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

you  did  say  something  about  physical  infatuation. 
I  was  unconcerned  and  paid  but  slight  attention. 
But  now  I  am  concerned  and  I  grope  back  and 
fumble  among  your  words.  Don't  the  newspapers 
nearly  every  day  tell  us  of  some  man  who  has  taken 
his  own  life  because  his  heart  has  been  wrung.  I 
read  last  week  of  a  man,  educated,  prosperous, 
high  in  public  estimation,  who  went  to  the  grave 
of  a  girl  whom  he  loved  and  there  slew  himself. 
And  yet  in  this  Edisonian  age  if  we  use  the  word 
love  we  must  do  so  with  a  sneer  or  be  laughed  at. 
But  I  have  not  sat  down  to  argue  with  you,  but 
to  confide  in  you.  In  several  of  my  letters  I  spoke 
of  the  Judge's  granddaughter.  I  have  often  visited 
the  Judge,  and  am  of  course  well  acquainted  with 
the  girl,  but  not  until  a  few  hours  ago  did  I  know 
that  I  loved  her.  You  will  say  that  this  is  rank 
nonesense,  and  I  admit  that  I  can't  explain  it.  j 
don't  know  that  we  are  suited  to  each  other;  j 
don't  know  that  she  ever  gave  me  a  serious  thought; 
I  am  much  older  than  she  is;  but  I  do  know  that 
as  I  sat  this  afternoon  and  looked  at  her,  I  sud 
denly  felt  that  I  would  give  the  world  to  possess 
her.  Is  this  a  physical  infatuation?  I  spoke  idle 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  1 35 

words,  I  even  laughed,  but  to-night  as  I  was  coming 
through  the  fields,  an  emotion,  a  passion  almost 
mad,  seized  me  and  swayed  me.  There  is  much 
of  the  barbarian  in  me;  you  have  often  told  me 
that  I  was  too  impulsive  to  be  civilized;  and  a 
recollection  of  this  stuck  into  .me  like  a  splinter  as 
I  struggled  with  myself  in  the  fields.  Why  strug 
gle?  I  don't  know.  I  thought  of  no  difficulty  to 
be  overcome,  of  no  fight  against  odds;  in  my 
strength,  in  my  head-long  vanity,  believed  that 
nothing  could  stand  in  my  way,  and  yet  I  struggled 
with  myself.  What  am  I  going  to  do?  I  am 
going  to  marry  her.  Has  she  nothing  to  say?  She 
may  have,  but  if  it  is  in  opposition  she  needn't  say 
it.  There's  egotism  for  you.  But  I  am  going  to 
give  her  time.  Yes,  and  I  am  going  to  give  myself 
time.  I  must  know  whether  my  love  is  enduring 
or  fitful.  I  rebelled  against  her;  I  tried  to  fight 
myself  free  from  her  image,  there  in  the  fields,  but 
could  not.  Now  I  shall  wait." 


CHAPTER  X. 

Cold  wind  blew  from  the  north  and  the  brown 
leaves  lay  in  drifts.  Strange  birds  came  whirling 
through  the  bleak  air  of  night,  and  sought  to  warm 
themselves  under  the  eaves  of  the  house;  morning 
dawned  with  a  spitting  of  snow,  and  screaming, 
they  resumed  their  flight.  Axes  rang  in  the  woods, 
shouting  boys  and  yelping  dogs  roamed  over  the 
fields;  the  creek,  bordered  with  ice,  ran  with  chilly 
rippling;  the  horses  were  frisky  in  the  barn-lot; 
old  cows  pranced  on  the  frozen  ground.  And  at 
midnight,  from  far  away  on  the  hill-side  where  the 
under-brush  was  tangled,  came  the  thrilling  notes 
of  the  fox-hound. 

Hawley  often  sat  by  the  log  fire  in  the  Judge's 
house.  But  sitting  by  the  fire  or  walking  abroad 
the  image  of  the  girl  was  ever  before  him.  He 
had  waited,  as  he  had  said  that  he  would,  .but  in 
this  portrait  not  a  tint  had  faded,  not  a  hair-line 
of  color  had  been  dimmed.  His  love  surrounded 

136 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  137 

her  with  a  mystery  and  musing  upon  it  he  perplexed 
himself.  He  found  her  so  different  from  other 
human  beings,  and  he  did  not  know  that  what  he 
took  to  be  a  sort  of  divine  oddity  was  simply  the 
spray  of  his  own  imagination.  He  was  not  so 
strong  as  he  had  been,  not  so  full  of  the  essence  of 
irrisistible  conquest  as  he  was  at  the  time  when 
he  told  Dr.  Ford  that  if  she  had  anything  to  say  in 
opposition,  she  might  as  well  hold  it  unsaid.  She 
had  puzzled  him.  If  her  regard  for  him  was  warmer 
than  mere  friendship,  how  could  she  remain  so 
carelessly  at  ease  when  he  came  near  her?  He  felt 
that  he  had  thrown  his  yearning  mind  upon  her, 
to  read  her  in  its  searching  light,  and  that  with 
nymphal  grace  she  had  ambled  from  under  it. 
What  was  then  left  for  him  to  do?  Nothing. 
What  was  left  for  him  to  feel?  A  sick  resentment. 
Ah,  the  old  road,  older  than  the  lane,  the  first 
path-way  made  by  the  foot  of  man,  bestrewn  with 
the  human  heart's  first  tender  foibles,  with  the 
lamps  of  man's  earliest  fancy  burning  here  and 
there  and  with  darkness  lying  cold  between  them 
—the  uneven  road  of  love.  There  is  many  a 
short  cut,  many  a  bramble  to  be  avoided,  but  the 


X38  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

mind  that  sees  the  near  route  is  practical  with  close 
calculation,  and  dull  is  the  soul  that  misses  the 
briar. 

In  reply  to  Hawley's  confession,  Dr.  Ford  had 
said:  "My  dear  boy,  you  have  struggled  to  prove 
that  the  sun  shines.  You  amuse  me,  and  yet  I 
herewith  send  you  a  rose-bud  which  you  will  please 
put  into  the  vase,  along  with  your  newly-bloomed 
sentiment.  I  have  never  talked  to  you  about  love! 
You  make  me  laugh.  Why,  when  I  saw  you  last 
you  believed  more  in  the  potency  of  a  breach  of 
promise  suit  than  in  the  existence  of  that  deep, 
inner  disturbance  which  we  know  as  love.  But 
let  me  say  to  you  that  even  in  love,  when  you 
imagine  that  your  soul  is  a  burning  mountain,  it 
is  well  to  be  sensible,  or  at  least  to  make  the 
attempt.  It  is  barely  possible  that-  the  young 
woman  is  not  at  all  wrought  up.  I  say  this  not  to 
discourage  you,  but  as  a  warning  to  your  wild 
confidence.  What  do  you  mean  by  this  Edisonian 
age?  Do  you  mean  that  man  is  so  busy  with  the 
material  that  he  cannot  feel  the  spiritual  ?  It  may 
be  so  with  some  men — it  has  been  so  in  every  age 
—but  it  is  not  so  with  all  men.  This  is  an  age  in 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  139 

which  a  man  may  not  tell  most  truth  but  when  he 
demands  that  most  truth  shall  be  told.  Realism 
has  been  taken  up  as  a  fad.  But  what  is  more 
real  than  the  beautiful?  The  rose-bud  I  send  you 
is  as  real  as  any  toad  that  hops  in  your  field." 

Hawley  carried  this  letter  about  with  him  and 
read  it  time  and  again.  He  was  not  attracted  by 
the  soft  color  with  which  the  writer  sought  to 
illumine  his  opinions  of  truth  and  sentiment;  he 
found  in  it  no  balm  to  sooth  and  cool  a  heated 
irritation — he  found  a  wasp  and  it  stung  him.  "It 
is  barely  possible  that  the  young  woman  is  not  at 
all  wrought  up."  This  warning  was  the  wasp. 
He  repeated  the  words  over  and  over,  until  they 
meant  nothing,  held  nothing  but  dead  sound;  then 
he  would  open  the  letter,  and  when  his  eye  fell 
upon  the  words,  out  would  buzz  the  wasp  and  sting 
him  again.  And  in  the  midst  of  this  torture,  when 
purple  with  punishment  and  in  sore  need  of  sym 
pathy,  the  girl  carelessly  told  him  that  she  was 
going  to  a  distant  part  of  the  state  to  spend  two 
months  at  the  house  of  a  kinsman.  He  coldly 
replied:  "Are  you?"  It  was  the  ice  made  by 
steam,  by  excessive  heat,  by  quick,  exhaustive 
evaporation. 


I4O  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

It  was  a  dreary  evening  and  they  sat  by  the  log 
fire  in  the  family  sitting-room.  In  the  afternoon 
the  Judge  had  gone  to  town  and  had  not  returned. 
Mrs.  Trapnell  passed  through  the  room,  wonder 
ing  what  could  have  kept  him  so  late. 

"When  do  you  think  of  starting?" 

u>To-morrow." 

"How  far  is  it?" 

"Seventy-five  miles,  I  think." 

"A  long  distance,"  he  said. 

"Why,  I  didn't  think  that  any  distance  was  long 
to  a  man  from  Chicago." 

"It  isn't  if  he  travels  it.  You  say  you  are  going 
to  stay  two  months?" 

"Yes,  about  that  long." 

"You  and  the  spring  will  come  back  together. 
The  rest  of  us  will  stay  here  with  the  winter, 
waiting  for  you." 

She  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  laughed  with 
rippling  gayety.  "Ida,"  her  grandmother  called, 
from  the  stairway  in  the  hall,  "have  you  seen  any 
thing  of  my  darning  gourd?" 

A  darning  gourd!  A  thing  to  put  into  the  heel 
of  a  stocking  to  hold  it  taut  while  darning  it. 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  14! 

And  to  ask  that  divine  creature  if  she  had  seen 
that  thing!  It  came  to  Hawley  like  a  blasphemous 
shout. 

"No,  ma'am,  I  haven't  seen  it." 

"Well,  it's  mighty  strange  what's  become  of  it. 
Didn't  that  good-for-nothing  puppy  take  it  out 
into  the  yard.  I  just  know  I'll  break  that  dog's 
neck  if  he  ever  dares  to  come  into  the  house  again." 

"I  don't  know,  grams." 

Of  course  she  didn't  know,  and  simply  to  ask 
her  fell  but  little  short  of  an  outrage.  And  yet 
she  serenely  bore  it.  How  Christian-like  was  her 
forbearance,  how  sublime  her  self-restraint. 

"Mr.  Hawley,  that  book  you  brought  me  is 
awfully  stupid." 

"Why,  it's  been  highly  praised." 

"That  may  be,  but  it's  stupid." 

He  had  read  the  book  and  had  enjoyed  it,  but 
he  suddenly  remembered  that  parts  of  it  were  very 
dull.  "But  the  character  drawing  is  good,"  he 
said. 

"Oh,  yes,  but  they  don't  say  anything;  they 
talk,  but  I  can't  recall  a  word  that  any  one  of 
them  said.  What's  the  use  of  putting  a  character 


142  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

into  a  book  unless  there  is  something  to  him — the 
smallest  bit  of  something,  at  least  ?" 

"Not  much  use,  I  must  agree.  I  suppose  you'll 
write  to  your  grandfather  while  you  are  gone." 

"Oh,  yes,  I  always  write  when  I'm  away  from 
home.  But  I'm  not  fond  of  writing;  I  never  can 
find  anything  to  say." 

"You  can  tell  about  yourself." 

"Yes,  but  that  wouldnt  be  any  news  to  gramper." 

"But  it  might  be  to  the  rest  of  us." 

"Oh,  and  you  want  to  hear  too,  do  you?" 

"Yes,  and  I'm  going  to  write  to  you  and  tell  you 
everything  that's  going  on  at  home." 

"Oh,  that  will  be  nice." 

"Ida,"  her  grandmother  called  from  the  top  of 
the  stairs,  "I  just  know  that  good-for-nothing 
puppy  did  take  that  gourd.  I  can't  find  it  any 
where." 

"I  tell  you  I  don't  know  anything  about  it, 
grams." 

"Well  go  out  there  and  see  if  you  can  find  it 
anywhere.  For  goodness  sake,  here  it  is  on  the 
trunk  right  in  front  of  me." 

"I  am  very  glad  she  found  it,"  said  Hawley.     "I 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  143 

was  afraid  that  we'd  all  have  to  go  down  into  our 
graves,  not  knowing  what  had  become  of  that  thing. 
But  fate  is  kinder  to  us  than  we  think." 

"You  mustn't  make  fun  of  grams,"  she  said, 
laughing;  and  it  was  what  any  ordinary  girl  might 
have  said,  but  to  Hawley,  mind  blunted  in  his 
adoration  of  her,  it  was  a  solemn  and  majestic 
warning.  He  could  have  told  her  that  not  to  save 
his  life  would  he  make  fun  of  so  respectable  a 
woman,  that  to  him  her  darning  gourd  was  sacred, 
and  that  he  was  ready  to  rejoice  that  she  had  found 
it.  She  got  up  to  reach  something  on  the  mantle- 
piece,  and  a  ribbon  that  she  had  worn  tied  about 
her  hair,  fell  to  the  floor.  He  caught  it  up  and 
asked  her  if  he  might  keep  it.  She  looked  at  him 
with  a  smile  so  full  of  mischief  and  told  him  that  of 
course  he  was  welcome  to  it  but  that  if  he  really 
wanted  a  ribbon  she  would  give  him  a  new  one. 
Thus  they  driveled  the  time  away.  He  had  thought 
of  many  wise  things  to  say  to  her,  for  he  was  a 
man  of  the  world  and  surely  could  entertain  a 
country  girl,  but  the  wise  things  would  not  come 
and  he  might  as  well  have  been  a  clod-hopper  of 
the  fields.  He  remembered  that  he  and  this  girl 


144  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

had  talked  sensibly,  in  the  earlier  days  of  their 
acquaintance,  and  he  muttered  an  imprecation 
against  the  stiff  clamp  that  was  now  on  bis  tongue. 
Nothing  can  appear  colder  or  more  insipid  than 
passion's  studied  by-play,  but  he  did  not  realize 
this  even  though  he  practiced  it  himself  and  saw  it 
practiced  under  his  ardent  gaze. 

Suddenly  the  room  appeared  to  be  full  of  dogs; 
and  a  gaunt  man  stood  peering  in  at  the  door. 
Then  came  a  sharp  cry  and  the  next  moment 
"grams"  was  among  the  dogs,  striking  right  and 
left  with  a  broom.  "Here,  Bose;  here,  Ring!" 
the  gaunt  man  called.  "Come,  git  out.  That's 
it,  lam  'em,  ma'm;  lam  it  to  "em." 

Mrs.  Trapnell  followed  the  frightened  dogs  to 
the  front  door,  striking  at  them  as  they  scampered 
down  the  steps,  then  flurried  with  anger,  she  re 
turned  to  the  sitting-room.  During  this  time  the 
man  stood  at  the  door,  smiling  grimly  and  telling 
her  to  beat  the  unmannered  rascals;  and  when  she 
came  back  he  said:  "You've  missed  one  of  'em, 
ma'm.  There's  Miss  Betty  under  the  table." 
Hereupon  she  darted  at  a  young  dog  crouched  in 
a  corner.  The  creature  howled  and  the  dogs  out- 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  145 

side  took  up  the  spirit  of  her  distress  and  barked 
furiously.  "Don't  hit  her  too  hard,  ma'm.  She 
don't  mean  no  harm.  There,  she's  all  right.  She 
won't  come  in  again." 

"Good-for-nothing  things,  tracking  up  the  house. 
I'll  kill  the  last  one  of  them!" 

"Yes,  ma'm,  I  believe  you  would,  but  they're 
all  right  now.  Where's  the  Judge?" 

"He  went  to  town  directly  after  dinner  and  he 
ought  to  be  back  right  now  but  he  ain't.  Just  look 
at  that  track  there  as  big  as  a  pie  plate.  Gracious 
knows  I  can't  keep  things  clean  no  matter  how  hard 
I  try." 

"It'll  dry  off  putty  soon,  ma'm,  But  in  the 
meantime  you  might  introduce  me." 

"You  must  excuse  me,"  Mrs.Trapnell  apologized; 
"but  these  dogs  are  a  perfect  scarecrow  to  polite 
ness.  Mr.  Hawley,  this  is  Mr.  Lige  Crump." 

"I  know  you  mighty  well  by  name,  sir, "said  Mr. 
Crump,  shaking  hands  with  Hawley. 

"And  I  know  of  you  too,"  Hawley  replied.  "I 
often  lie  in  bed  and  listen  to  the  music  of  your 
hounds." 

"Hope  they  don't  disturb  you,  sir,"  he  rejoined, 


146  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

sitting  down  and  stretching  his  feet  toward  the  fire. 
"Well  I  should  say  not.  It's  thrilling." 
"Glad  you  think  so.  But  my  pack's  sorter  run 
down  lately;  somebody  pizened  one  of  my  leaders 
and  if  I  ever  find  out  who  it  was  the  price  of  wool 
will  drap  at  once.  I  think  it  was  a  fellow  that 
lives  up  the  creek,  but  I  ain't  certain.  I  didn't 
like  him  when  he  first  moved  in  there — brought  a 
lot  of  half  hounds  into  the  neighborhood.  No 
gentleman's  got  any  use  for  a  half  hound;  he 
selects  his  dogs  as  carefully  as  he  does  his  friends; 
and  if  his  dogs  are  low-bred,  you  may  bet  that  he 
ain't  much  better  and  that  his  friends  are  about  of 
the  same  ilk.  I've  heard  my  friend  John  Roark 
talk  about  you.  Now  there's  a  man  right;  loves  a 
good  dog  and  knows  one  when  he  sees  him.  He 
ain't  much  on  some  things — can't  write  as  good  a 
hand  as  the  circuit  court  clerk,  but  he's  a  man  of 
the  people  and  it's  a  shame  that  he  hain't  been 
sent  to  the  legislature.  Some  folks  don't  like  him, 
but  I  say  that  it's  because  they  can't  see  his  good 
points.  But  sometimes  we  fail  to  see  good  points 
in  a  man  that's  got  the  most  of  them.  You  and 
John  visit  putty  often,  don't  you?" 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  147 

*y ''-•" 

"Well,  he  and  his  sister  have  been  over  a  num 
ber  of  times." 

"Oh,  it  don't  make  no  difference  with  John 
whether  you  can  come  as  often  as  he  can  or  not. 
He  never  counts  visits.  Well,  Miss  Idy,  how  do 
you  stand  this  cold  weather" 

"Very  well." 

"Glad  to  hear  it.  Polly's  been  laying  off  to 
come  and  see  you  for  some  time,  but  she's  kept 
putty  busy,  a  helpin'  of  her  mother.  She'll  be 
over  before  long,  though." 

"I'm  going  away  to-morrow." 

"That  so?  But  I  don't  reckon  you'll  be  gone 
long.-  Don't  reckon  the  old  Judge  would  know 
what  to  do  without  you." 

Hawley  felt  that  this  was  intended  for  himself, 
and  as  if  searching  for  a  reflex  of  his  own  convic 
tion,  he  studied  the  girl's  face,  but  no  reflex  was 
there;  nothing  save  the  glow  thrown  from  her 
own  warm  nature. 

"I'm  not  going  to  stay  very  long,"  she  replied. 
"Only  two  months." 

Why  didn't  she  say  two  hundred  thousand  years! 
Two  minutes  can  be  an  eternity;  two  seconds  of 


148  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

the  soul's  existence  can  be  a  shoreless  sea  of  time. 

"Oh,  that's  a  right  smart  stay.  I  think  I  hear 
the  Judge  coming." 

When  the  outer  door  was  opened  the  dogs  darted 
in,  snapping,  snarling,  howling  for  their  master; 
and  "grams"  flew  at  them  with  her  broom,  making 
them  howl  the  more  until  she  had  beaten  them 
down  the  steps.  And  when  order  was  restored  it 
was  discovered  that  the  Judge,  accompanied  by  Mr. 
Charles  Willis,  had  entered  the  roorn.  Of  course 
this  discovery  was  made  and  recognized  by  the 
others,  but  not  until  the  last  dog  had  been  put  to 
flight  did  Mrs.  Trapnell  appear  to  be  conscious  of 
anything  except  that  her  household  had  been 
invaded. 

"Gracious  alive!"  declared  the  Judge,  "this  is 
an  odd  performance,  I  must  say.  A  man  comes 
home  to  find  his  wife,  a  lady  and  the  mistress  of  a 
well-known  household,  thrashing  among  a  lot  of 
dogs  as  if  she's  fighting  for  her  life." 

"Well  I  just  won't  be  tormented  this  way,"  she 
snapped;  "I  just  won't— I'll  kill  the  last  one  of 
them.  No  matter  how  hard  I  try,  from  morning 
till  night,  I  can't  keep  things  looking  respectable." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  149 

"Madam,"  said  the  Judge,  "it  seems  to  me  that 
the  cabin  out  there  is  full  of  negro  women,  and 
yet  you  are  determined  to  fret  yourself  to  death 
with  trying  to  keep  the  house  in  order.  By  the 
Eternal,  madam,  it  doesn't  speak  very  well  for  me; 
people  will  think  that  I  brought  you  here  merely 
to  enslave  you.  Sit  down  everybody  and  we'll 
warm  ourselves  and  then  have  a  bite  to  eat." 

Social  order  was  thus  established;  the  lank  cause 
of  the  trouble  sat  unconcernedly  if  not  placidly, 
with  his  feet  stretched  toward  the  fire;  and  the 
principal  dog  track,  the  one  as  big  as  a  pieplate, 
gave  so  encouraging  a  promise  of  drying  soon  that 
Mrs.  Trapnell,  thus  induced  to  put  aside  a  part  of 
her  worry,  turned  to  Charles  Willis  and  asked: 
"Have  you  seen  any  of  Henry's  folks  lately?" 

Mr.  Willis  arose  from  his  chair,  placed  his 
hand  on  his  breast,  bowed  with  respect  for  his 
questioner,  but  in  lack  of  respect  for  "Henry's 
folks,"  he  said:  "Cousin  Mandy,  lately  and  on 
three  several  occasions,  I  have  been  compelled  to 
intimate  to  you,  that  although  Henry  and  his 
family  are  distantly  related  to  you  and  to  myself, 
they  would  if  properly  handled  make  a  valuable 


150  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

addition  to  a  compost  heap.  Henry  does  not  be 
lieve  that  a  man  has  the  divine  right  to  receive  a 
reasonable  compensation  for  his  services;  he  does 
not  know  that  the  value  of  an  article  depends  upon 
the  material  of  which  it  is  composed,  and  there 
fore  he  is  a  mere  vegetable,  a  squash.  I  try  to  be  a 
gentleman."  He  bowed  again  and  sat  down, 
thoroughly  satisfied  with  himself  and  wholly  dis 
satisfied  with  every  one  else,  finding  wisdom  in  his 
own  words  and  music  in  his  own  voice. 

"Willis,"  said  Lige  Crump,  drawing  in  his  feet, 
"you  ought  to  teach  school,  or  if  you  knowed 
enough  you  rnout  train  houn's." 

When  pushed  for  an  expression,  particularly  a 
sarcasm,  Willis  had  a  way  .of  touching  his  tongue 
as  if  to  pick  off  a  phrase.  And  he  now  went  through 
with  this  performance,  unmindful  of  the  laugh 
which  broke  out,  unobservant  of  Mrs,  Trap- 
nell's  satiric  titter.  "Some  men  were  not  born," 
he  declared,  "they  were  laid  upon  a  stump  by  some 
aerial  scavenger  and  hatched  out  by  the  genial 
rays  of  a  southern  sun." 

"Charles,"  said  the  Judge,  "you  still  say  that 
with  as  much  gusto  as  you  did  'twenty  years  ago. 
Why  don't  you  vary  your  form  a  trifle." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  I  51 

"Judge,  the  terms  of  an  exact  truth  are  un 
changeable.  Twenty  years  ago  you  said  that 
Gordon  P.  Hensley  was  an  infamous  scoundrel; 
and  to-night  as  we  came  from  town  I  heard  you 
make  the  same  statement." 

The  Judge  gave  him  a  severe  look ;  Willis  smiled, 
but  yielding  not  to  this  attempted  play  of  good 
humor,  the  old  man's  countenance  remained  hard, 
and  the  tight  lines  that  seemed  to  draw  down  his 
mouth  were  with  difficulty  broken  when  he  said: 
"Let  us  have  no  more  of  that,  sir." 

Surely  this  old  man,  hiding  no  resentment  and 
concealing  no  joy,  strove  by  being  natural  himself 
to  make  his  visitors  feel  at  home.  The  fading  rem 
nant  of  an  old  society,  not  of  the  broad-spread  so 
ciety  of  the  South,  which  flattered  and  then  fought, 
but  which  was  too  honest  to  flatter  but  never 
too  religious  to  fight;  the  rude  off-shoot  of  an 
English  aristocracy  that  found  a  virtue  in  blunt, 
straightforward  speech,  and  rejected  even  until  a 
late  day  the  easy  manners,  the  soft  social  hypoc- 
racy  of  France. 

Like  a  shadow  that  crosses  the  stubble-field, 
leaving  the  land  brighter  where  it  rested  for  a 


152  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

moment,  the  old  man's  resentment  passed  awa) . 
The  fire  crackled  and  murmured,  the  cold  wind 
whistled,  the  dogs  scratched  at  the  outer  door. 

"Ida,"  said  the  Judge,  "get  that  old  quilt  there 
in  the  closet  and  give  it  to  those  dogs  to  lie  on." 

"No,  never  mind,"  Crump  spoke  up.  "I'm  going 
in  a  minit  and  they  can  stand  it  till  then.  I  told 
you  that  Polly  was  laying  off  to  come  over  and  see 
you,  didn't  I,  Miss  Idy?  Oh,  yes,  and  you  lowed 
you  was  going  away  pretty  soon." 

The  Judge  looked  at  him  sharply  as  though 
about  to  reply  to  him,  but  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Trapnell  and  thus  spoke  to  her: 

"Mandy,  I  told  those  poor  people  down  the 
creek  to  send  up  here  for  some  meat.  Did  they?" 

"Yes,  I  gave  them  enough  to  last  a  week." 

"And  gramper,"  said  Ida,  "I  told  the  man  to  get 
all  the  wood  he  wanted." 

"I  am  glad  you  did,  my  child.  I  intended  to  tell 
him  myself.  This  weather  is  hard  on  those  little 
children  there  in  that  open  house.  I  wonder  if 
they've  got  bed-clothes  enough?" 

"I  sent  them  several  quilts  and  a  blanket,"  Mrs. 
Trapnell  replied. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  153 

"What's  that?"  Hawley  asked.  He  had  been 
dreaming.  "Somebody  in  need  of  assistance?  They 
shan't  be  in  need  long.  Where  are  they?" 

"In  a  cabin  near  the  creek  not  far  from  here?" 
Mrs.  Trapnell  answered.  "But  they  are  all  right 
now,"  she  added. 

"That  may  be,  but  will  you  please  see  that  they 
get  this?"  He  handed  her  twenty  dollars.  "And 
tell  them,"  he  continued,  "that  they  shan't  suffer 
for  anything.  Judge,  having  come  from  a  place 
where  we  are  accustomed  to  see  distress,  and  having 
seen  no  evidences  of  actual  want  since  I  left  there, 
I  had  almost  forgotten  that  suffering  continued  to 
exist.  We  are  made  narrow-minded  by  our  sur 
roundings.  When  a  man  is  gloomy  he  thinks  that 
the  world  has  gone  wrong,  that  life  is  a  mistake, 
that  creation  took  the  wrong  shoot  from  the  begin 
ning;  but  let  him  be  prosperous  and  in  good  health, 
and  he  is  then  ready  meekly  to  acknowledge  that 
God  is  right." 

He  spoke  more  with  the  dull  inflection  of  one 
that  was  reading  rather  than  with  the  accent  of 
conversation;  he  was  still  dreaming,  and  the  subject 
of  his  dream  sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire- 


154  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

place,  bright,  cheerful  in  her  talk,  gay  in  her  man 
ner,  happy  even  though  she  were  going  away  on  the 
morrow.  The  talk  flowed  on,  like  a  stream  that 
sinks  and  then  bursts  out  afresh,  rippling  noisily, 
murmuring  low,  silent  and  then  rippling  again. 
But  nothing  appealed  to  his  understanding,  he 
heard  sounds  merely;  he  caught  no  distinct  word 
until  the  Judge  said:  "This  cold  weather  appears 
to  make  you  drowsy,  sir.  I  should  think  that 
coming  as  you  do  from  a  bleak  lake-shore  you 
would  laugh  at  our  pretense  of  a  winter." 

"Oh,  yes,  surely.  The  fact  is  that  I  don't  mind 
cold  weather  very  much  anywhere;  but  it  strikes 
me  that  this  air  is  more  penetrating  even  than  a 
lake  wind.  It  seems  so  out  of  place." 

"I  don't  know  but  you  are  right,"  the  Judge 
replied.  "The  northern  soldiers  suffered  greatly 
with  cold  in  the  South;  and  my  recollection  is  that 
the  coldest  day  I  ever  felt  was  in  New  Orleans. 
Supper  ready?  Well,  so  am  I.  Come  everybody  " 

With  no  apparent  emotion  but  with  a  stupidity 
that  afterward  tormented  him,  Hawley  bade  the 
girl  good-bye.  They  stood  alone  in  the  hall,  but 
no  befitting  word  came  to  his  lips;  he  intended  to 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  155 

say  one  thing  and  said  another;  and  out  of  this 
confusion,  this  heterophemy,  came  but  a  jumble 
of  words.  She  went  with  him  to  the  door,  she 
stood  on  the  steps  in  the  wind,  she  laughingly  told 
him  that  he  must  not  forget  his  promise  to  write. 
The  door  was  closed,  the  light  no  longer  fell  upon 
the  steps;  he  was  alone  in  the  yard.  A  struggling 
resolution  urged  him  to  open  the  door  and  call  her, 
to  tell  her  that  he  was.  a  fool,  that  his  smothering 
heart  had  not  spoken;  but  the  resolution  died 
within  him  and  he  stumbled  his  way  to  -the  front 
gate  where  a  negro  boy  waited  with  his  horse  and 
buggy.  He  lashed  his  horse  and  drove  furiously 
down  the  road,  and  the  cutting  wind  brought  to 
him  a  keener  consciousness  that  he  was  a  fool.  He 
wondered  if  he  had  really  lost  his  mind.  What 
was  there  about  this  simple  country  girl  that  should 
so  completely  undo  him?  And  he  asked  himself 
what  would  have  been  the  result  had  he  met  her 
in  Chicago.  Would  he  have  fallen  in  love  with 
her,  and  would  she  have  transformed  him  into  an 
ox?  He  took  off  his  hat  and  put  his  hand  on  his 
head.  Had  old  Dr.  Ford  foreseen  the  coming  of 
insanity,  and  was  baldness  one  of  its  signs?  But 


156  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

he  was  not  bald;  his  hair  had  begun  to  grow 
thicker;  and  besides  some  of  the  ablest,  sanest 
men  he  ever  knew  were  bald. 

"Whoa,"  he  cried  and  brought  his  horse  to  a 
sudden  stop.  "I  will  go  back  there.  I  am  not  a 
fool,  I'm  not  an  ass." 

He  turned  about  and  drove  back.  Thoughts, 
ardent  and  eloquent  flew  to  his  mind;  words  of 
confident,  fearless  love  were  on  his  lips.  Now  he 
was  on  the  hill,  near  the  Judge's  house;  in  a 
minute  more  he  should  be  there.  But  suddenly 
he  pulled  hard  on  the  lines  and  brought  the  horse 
to  a  standstill.  The  lights  were  out;  the  house 
was  a  black  blot  on  a  smirch  of  darkness. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

At  day-light  a  sleet-storm  was  blowing;  the 
stiffened,  ice-covered  branches  of  an  old  oak  rapped 
on  the  roof  of  the  house.  Hawley  wondered  if  the 
girl  had  been  so  heedless  as  to  set  out  on  a  journey 
at  such  a  time.  She  was  to  start  early,  and  as  he 
lay  in  bed,  he  heard  the  distant  roar  of  the  railway 
train;  he  heard,  also,  the  inviting  crackle  of  a  fire 
that  old  Ben  had  built  in  an  adjoining  room,  and 
he  got  up.  He  found  the  negro  standing  on  the 
hearth,  holding  one  foot  to  the  blaze. 

"Good  .mawnin',  sah;  good  mawnin'.  Monstus 
col'  outside." 

"Yes,  about  as  cold  weather  as  you  ever  felt, 
isn't  it?" 

"No,  sah,  in  de  war  time  we  had  it  colder  den 
dis;  but  dat  wuz  er  time  w'en  you  mout  'spect 
anything.  I  got  up  arly  dis  mawnin'  an'  went 
down  de  creek  ter  see  ef  I  could  sorter  pick  up  er 

rabbit,  but  I  didn'.     I  passed   old   Doc   Moffet's 

15? 


158  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

cabin,  an'  it  looked  so  col'  an'  lonesome  dat  I 
flung  er  side  de  jealousness  twix  de  diffunt  s&hools 
o'  medicine,  sah,  an'  went  in  an'  made  de  old 
man  er  fire.  An'  he  'peared  mighty  grateful,  too, 
he  did;  dat  is  w'ile  I  wuz  makin'  it,  but  atter  I 
dun  got  it  made,  he  had  ter  hint  dat  I  hadpizened 
er  pusson.  Dat  ain'  no  way  fur  er  man  ter  ack." 

"No,  I  should  think  not.  You  say  you've  been 
away  down  the  creek?" 

"Yas,  sah,  way  down  ter  whar  dem  po'  white 
folks  is." 

"Then  you  passed  the  Judge's  house." 

"Yas,  sah,  an'  I  stopped  dar,  too,  an"  tuck  er 
cup  o'  coffee  wid  old  Sis  Milly;  but  you  needn' 
say  nuthin'  bout  dat  whar  Ain'  Lilly  kin  yere  you, 
caze  dat  lady  is  monstus  jealous.  Dat's  allus  de 
way  wid  deze  lay  lady  folks,  sah.  You  doan  know 
how  soon  da  gwine  break  out  on  you;  da  may  pear 
like  da  doan  kere  nuthin  fur  you,  but  let  em'  ketch 
you  a  cuttin'  er  few  shines  about  er  nuder  lady, 
an'  uh  huh,  look  out!  Sometimes  I  thinks  dat  de 
best  o'  'em  is  pizenous,  sah.  You  study  dar 
cuisness  an'  jest  ez  you  think  you  got  it  down 
terer  fine  p'int,  you  suddenly  skivers  dat  you  been 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  159 

way  off  all  de  time.      Fse  had  er  monstus  sight  o' 
trouble  wid  'ern  in  my  life,  sah." 

"What  time  were  you  at  the  Judge's  house?" 
"Bout  er  hour  an'  er  ha'f  er  go,  I  reckon." 
"Do  you  know  whether  or   not   Miss   Ida    went 
away  this  morning?" 

"I  knows  dat  she  did  go,  sah.  Da  driv  herterde 
depot  er  bout  de  time  I  lef.  She's  de  fines'  young 
lady  in  all  dis'  country,  an' — an' — she  thinks  er 
whole  lot  o'  you.  Neber  mine  axin'  me  how  I 
fpun'  out;  neber  mine.  I  knows  whut  Sis  Milly 
tol'  ine,  an',  whateber  Sis  Milly  may  be  she's  jes' 
b'ilin'  oberwid  truth.  Marse  Bob — now  won'  you 
please  skuze  me,  sah,  fur  callin'  you  Marse  Bob? 
I  uster  hab  er  young  rnarster  named  Bob  an',  you 
looks  zackly  like  'im.  Dar  wuz  er  man  fur  you, 
an'  he  wan't  er  feered  o'  nuthin',  an'  lemme  tell 
you  he  wuz  er  monstus  good-lookin'  pusson  de 
fust  thing  you  know.  But  whut  I  wuz  gwine  git 
at  is  dis  here:  De  col'  weather  has  come  on,  sah, 
an'  in  my  practice  o'  medicine  I  needs  suthin'  er 
leetle  mo'  wa'min'  den  yarbs;  so  ef  you  could  let 
me  hab  er  dollar  I'd  be  monstus  proud  o'  de  fack. 
"Ben,  your  flattery  is  lost  on  me,  but  here's  the 
dollar  all  the  same." 


160  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"I  doan  kere  nuthin'  'bout  de  flattery  so  I  gits 
de  dollar,  er  haw,  haw,  haw!  But  Iain'  tryin'  ter 
work  you,  Mr.  Hawley.  I  knows  you  is  er  good 
man — I  dun  yered  er  'bout  you  mo'n  wunst;  folks 
in  town  tol'  me  dat  w'en  da  fotch  de  'bution  box 
ter  you  in  de  church  you  drapped  in  fifty  dollars 
like  it  wan't  no  mo'n  er  dime.  But  helpin'  de 
church  doan'  count  wid  me,  caze  folks  do  dat 
sometimes  fur  er  show.  I  knows  er  man  an'  his 
name  is  Mr.  John  Roark,  too,  dat  gib  er  preacher 
ten  dollars  an'  megitly  atterwards  haggled  wid  me 
ober  seventy-fi"  cents  dat  I  dun  earned  er  cleanin' 
out  his  well.  But  dat  ain'  de  way  wid  you,  Mr. 
Hawley.  Ole  Unk  Laz  dat's  down  wid  de  rheu- 
matiz  tole  me  dat  you  got  clothes  fur  his  chillun  so 
da  could  go  ter  school.  An'  dat  ain'  all;  Fse 
yered  frum  you  all  roun'  de  neighborhood;  an'  I 
wanter  tell  you  right  now  dat  de  Lawd  ain'  makin' 
it  er  p'int  ter  furgit  such  men  ez  dat.  Yas,  sah; 
yas,  sah  Oh,  da  calls  me  no  count,  an'  lazy  an' 
all  dat,  but  lemme  tell  you  I'se  gwine  stick  ter  you. 
Huh,  I  almos'  furgot  ter  tell  you  dat  I  seed  Mr. 
Willis  ober  yander  an'  he  tol'  me  ter  tell  you  dat 
he'd  be  yere  putty  soon  ter  talk  ter  you  on  some 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  l6l 

business.  Strange  thing  ter  me  dat  he  doan'  do 
no  mo'  den  he  do.  W'y,  it  'pear  ter  me  dat  ef  I 
could  talk  like  da  man  I'd  make  it  er  p'int  ter  go 
roun'  de  neighborhood,  trampin'  on  common  folks. 
Look  yeje,  I  got  ter  be  gwine.  Sick  people  needin' 
me  dis  minit." 

"Ben!"  his  wife  called  from  the  dining-room. 

"Yessum." 

"Is  dat  you?" 

"Yessum." 

"I  thought  I  yered  dat  big  mouf  o'  yourn.  I 
want  you  ter  git  right  outen  dar  now  an'  split  me 
some  wood.  Ef  you  doan  you  shan't  hab  er  bite 
ter  eat  dis  day." 

"W'y  lady,  I  ain'  been  doin'  nuthin'  but  split 
wood  fur  you  all  de  mawnin'.  But  ef  yo'  sweet 
mouf  says  so,  I'll  split  some  mo'." 

"Go  on  outen  dar  now,  talkin'  'bout  er  sweet 
mouf." 

"l£en,  have  you  split  any  wood?"  Hawley  asked. 

"Wall,  not  zackly,  sah." 

"Go  then  and  do  it.      Do  you  understand?" 

"Un'erstan' ?  De  trumpet  dun  blowd;  de  word 
wid  de  bark  on  it  dun  give.  I'm  gwine  now." 

Tennessee  Judge  n 


l62  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

The  sounds  of  the  negro's  axe  were  soon  mingled 
with  the  wind  cries  of  the  raw  morning;  and  as 
Hawley  sat  at  breakfast,  he  heard  the  old  rascal 
throw  down  an  armful  of  wood  in  the  kitchen. 

Mr.  Willis  came,  bowing,  smiling,  expressing  his 
pleasure  at  seeing  Hawley  so  well  cared  for  at  this 
inclement  time;  hoping  that  the  weather  would 
soon  moderate;  declaring  that  had  the  people  fol 
lowed  his  advice  they  would  have  been  better  pre 
pared  for  this  chilly  emergency.  The  houses  were 
not  tight  enough;  men  thought  that  roominess  was 
comfort;  they  ought  to  see  his  snug  house  up  the 
river;  they  ought  to  observe  how  warm  he  was  in 
winter  and  how  cool  in  summer — snugness,  comfort, 
flowers  and  the  finest  turnips  that  ever  grew  on  the 
face  of  God's  generous  earth. 

"Sit  down,"  said  Hawley. 

"I  thank  you  for  this  true  evidence  of  manly 
courtesy.  Without  courtesy  we  are  barbarians; 
with  it  we  are  gentlemen.  You  see  me  to-day  as 
you  have  ever  seen  me,  careful  of  the  feelings  of 
others.  Other  people  may  change,  but  I  don't; 
what  I  was  yesterday,  I  am  to-day  —a  leopard  of 
consistency,  so  to  speak,  wearing  my  spots  in  the 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  163 

bright  light  of  day.  Pardon  me,  but  do  you  catch 
my  drift?" 

"What  you  say  is  all  drift  and  I  haven't  caught 
it.  But  I'll  not  put  you  to  the  trouble  of  saying 
it  again." 

"I  thank  you.  To  save  trouble  to  others  is  a 
most  gentlemanly  quality." 

"Ben  told  me  that  you  wanted  to  see  me  on 
business." 

"Yes,  sir,  and  its  nature  is  of  the  utmost  import 
ance;  but  I'm  in  no  hurry." 

"Well,  but  I  thought  of  going  to  town  this  morn 
ing  on  business  myself." 

"Ah,  then  I  will  not  detain  you.  By  the  way 
did  you  notice  last  night  that  the  Judge  got  a  little 
miffed  at  me?" 

"No,  I  didn't  notice  it.      What  about?" 

"Oh,  I  spoke  of  Gordon  P.  Hensley,  but  no 
matter,  it  was  soon  over  with.  Do  you  know  that 
he  has  carried  two  derringers  year  after  year, 
hoping  to  meet  his  enemy  ?  He  has,  and  he  carries 
them  yet;  never  leaves  home  without  them.  And 
once  every  week  he  fires  them  off  and  loads  them 
afresh.  There's  patience  for  you." 


164  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Yes,  and  a  hatred  that  it  wouldn't  be  well  to 
run  up  against.  I  suppose  Miss  Ida  left  this  morn 
ing." 

"Yes,  but  the  widow  Binson  is  still  with  us." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Ah,  now,  what?  Is  it  possible  that  you  don't 
know  what  report  says?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  am  interested  in  any  report 
regarding  her,  but  what  is  it?" 

"Oh,  come,  now,  you  must  have  heard  it;  oh, 
git  out  now,  you  know  you  have." 

"I  have  heard  nothing,  I  tell3'ou!" 

"Well,  then,  I  will  enlighten  you.  Report  says 
that  you  are  sweet  on  her." 

"And  report  is  simply  a  liar,  that's  all." 

"What,  so  harsh  a  term?" 

"Yes,  and  I  might  find  a  harsher  one." 

"But  please  don't.    Remember  that  she's  a  lady." 

"I  haven't  known  that  she's  a  lady  and  therefore 
I  can  remember  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"Oh,  come  now,  my  dear  sir.  Let  us  be  gentle, 
easy,  considerate,  pleasant  and  agreeable,  serene, 
composed  and  thoughtful.  Why,  bust  my  buttons, 
and  at  the  same  time  excuse  my  vulgarity,  I  have 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  165 

been  casting  my  longing  eye  in  that  direction. 
Pies,  jellies,  preserves,  canned  fruit — the  very 
woman  for  my  snug  home  up  the  river." 

"All  right,  take  her  there." 

"Ah,  and  it  did  seem  that  I  could,  but  since  you 
came  here  my  stock  has  gone  down." 

"Is  that  the  business  you  wanted  to  discuss  with 
me?" 

"Oh,  no,  no.  My  business  with  you  is  not  so 
serious  but  doubtless  a  little  more  important.  I 
told  you  some  time  ago  that  I  was  a  scientific  agri 
culturist,  and  although  my  life  has  been  passed  in 
this  channel,  yet  with  my  ability — pardon  me — I 
can  turn  it  in  another  direction.  All  I  want  is  a 
chance  to  display  my  worth,  and  I  believe  that 
Chicago  has  at  last  offered  that  chance." 

"So  you  think  of  going  there  and  you  want  'let 
ters  of  introduction.  Is  that  it?" 

"You  have  not  caught  my  meaning;  I  will  en 
deavor  to  make  myself  clear.  I  have  been  compli 
mented  for  my  address,  capability  and  the  ease  with 
which  I  can  talk  to  people.  Other  men  have  stolen 
my  ideas  and  are  now  wallowing  in  wealth;  and  it 
has  occurred  to  me  that  I  am  entitled  to  the  fruit 


1 66  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

of  my  own  brain.  But  what  can  I  do  here  among 
the  people  that  have  robbed  me?  Nothing!  I  must 
seek  a  new  field;  I  must  go  where  brain  is  invested 
at  morning  and  brings  a  return  at  night.  There 
fore  I  have  chosen  Chicago.  What  can  you  offer 
me — never  mind  the  salary,  see  what  I  am  worth, 
estimate  my  abilities  and  then  give  me  a  reason 
able  compensation  for  my  services." 

"But  I  don't  need  you;   I  have  nothing  for  you 
to  do." 

"Ah,  but  isn't  your  business  there  still  running?" 
"I  have  investments  there  but  no  active  business." 
"But  I  can  go  there   and   take   charge   of   these 
investments;   I  can   double  their  value.      My   ex 
perience,    wide,    varied,    searching     and     severe, 
teaches  me  that  there's  nothing  like  talking  a  thing 
up.      A  shallow  man  says  that  talk  is  cheap;   but  it 
is  not.     Invest  five    dollars   and  say  nothing  and 
you  have  five  dollars;   invest  five  and  talk.     Then 
what?     You  have  ten." 

"But  my  investments  don't  need  any  talking  up. 
They  are  already  talked  up." 

"Oh,  there  you  go,    there    you  go.     You    don't 
seem  to  catch  the  importance  of  what  I  say.   Why, 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  1 67 

everything  needs  talking  up.  Let  me  tell  you 
something.  I  went  out  once  with  a  patent  churn 
dasher.  It  was  a  splendid  thing,  but  it  wasn't 
known;  it  needed  talking  up.  People  didn't  want 
it;  they  could  get  along  without  it.  But  I  talked 
it  up  and  what  was  the  result?  Interest  was 
aroused  and  the  inventor  grew  rich.  But  now 
comes  in  the  miserable  littleness  of  man;  for, 
simply  because  I  did  not  personally — mark  the 
word — simply  because  I  did  not  personally  sell 
any  of  these  churn  dashers,  I  received  no  compen 
sation.  I  went  through  the  cou-ntry  once  for  an 
agricultural  paper,  and  I  breathed  its  name  in  every 
sequestered  community;  and  when  I  returned,  the 
manager  estimated  the  value  of  my  services  by  the 
number  of  subscriptions  I  had  brought  in,  and  in 
consequence  I  was  turned  loose  without  a  cent. 
My  ideas  were  appropriated ;  my  brains  were  stolen. 
Now,  sir,  I  will  go  to  Chicago  for  you  and  talk  up 
your  investments,  I  will  make  people  raise  their 
windows  and  look  out  to  see  what  has  caused  the 
clamor  in  the  street.  Do  you  catch  my  drift?" 

Hawley  laughed.     "Why,  your    services  to   me 
wouldn't  be  worth  two  cents  a  year.      What  could 


1 68  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

you  do?  Could  you  go  into  the  real  estate  market 
and  raise  the  value  of  my  lots." 

"Oh,  you  don't  seem  to  understand." 

"No,  I'll  swear  I  don't." 

Willis  sighed  deeply.  "This  is  the  way  it  goes. 
Set  my  heart  on  a  thing;  declare  myself  ready  to 
throw  my  ability  into  it,  and  then  comes  failure. 
The  devil  bespatters  me  with  his  broth.  I  don't 
know  which  way  to  turn  now;  I  can  simply  record 
another  disappointment  and  grope  about  in  dark 
ness."  He  was  silent  for  a  few  moments;  he  pon 
dered,  pressing  his  finger  tips  to  his  temples. 
"What  would  you  advise?"  he  asked. 

"I  should  think  that  to  go  to  work  'would  be  a 
good  plan." 

"Work!"  Willis  repeated,  with  a  hard,  dead- 
set  smile  showing  through  the  bristles  about  his 
mouth.  "I  ask  for  work,  for  a  chance  to  prove 
my  abilities  and  am  turned  away."  His  face  sud 
denly  brightened.  "Give  me  the  necessary  help, 
sir;  horses,  tools,  spiritual  encouragement,  money, 
and  let  me  make  your  farm  an  Eden,  a  hanging 
garden  of  Babylon." 

"I  don't  care  for  gardening;  I'm  going  to  raise 
stock." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  169 

"Stock!"  he  exclaimed,  "stock,  fine  stock?  You 
have  at  last  come  into  my  bailiwick.  Grass,  clover, 
a  flower-besprinkled  pasture.  Stock!  Why,  stock 
is  the  animated,  breathing,  gamboling  poetry  of 
this  life.  A  bull  bellows  and  tears  the  ground, 
and  there's  tragedy;  a  lamb  frisks  and  there's 
gentle  sentiment.  Stand  by  me,  give  me  money 
and  you  shall  have  all  the  stock  you  want." 

"But  all  my  arrangements  are  made.  I  have 
engaged  an  experienced  stock  raiser." 

Willis  sighed  again.  "Another  temple  fallen  to 
dust.  Mr.  HawJey,  you  held  "me  up  for  a  moment 
merely  to  kick  me.  I  am  bruised." 

"Do  you  need  money?"  Hawley  asked. 

"What's  that?  Do  I  need  money?  Does  the 
road-stained  steer,  hot,  wall-eyed,  tormented  by 
flies,  need  water  and  a  cool  place  to  lie  down?  My 
Hawley,  I  need  money." 

"Will  fifty  dollars  help  you  out?" 

Willis  sprang  to  his  feet  and  with  spectacular 
gestures  cut  the  air.  "My  Hawley,  hold  me  up 
and  bruise  me  with  disappointment,  but  don't  play 
with  my  tenderer  self,  my  straightened  circum 
stances.  Fifty  dollars!  Don't  tell  me  that  so 


170  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

much  cash  floats  on  the  surface  of  the  changeful 
stream  of  luck,  within  grasp  of  this  hand.  No, 
no,  "he  cried,  putting  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  "I 
dare  not  look  at  it." 

"Here's  the  money  if  you  want  it." 

He  took  the  money,  sat  down  and  said:  "No,  I 
am  not  feeling  my  way  through  an  illusion.  It  is 
real.  Let  me  see.  This  is  Thursday.  I  will  hand 
this  back  next  Saturday." 

"Better  make  it  three  months." 

"Ah,  you  overwhelm  me  with  money  and  swallow 
me  up  with  time.  But  so  be  it.  My  generous  life- 
preserver,  I'll  bid  you  good-morning." 

The  sun  was  shining  but  the  wind  had  grown 
colder,  fiercer,  and  sharp  specks  of  ice,  caught 
from  the  dead  grass,  were  driven  across  the  road. 
Hawley  drove  toward  town.  Every  variation  of 
sound,  the  wind,  the  fluttering  and  the  twitter  of 
cold  birds  in  the  hedge,  held  a  reminding  note  of 
the  girl's  voice.  With  his  head  bent  forward,  his 
over-coat  drawn  about  him,  his  eyes-  half  closed, 
he  drove  hard  against  the  breath  of  this  shuddering, 
shrieking  day;  and  across  his  mind  shot  the  light 
of  an  eye,  and  in  his  mind  was  the  glow  of  a  smile. 


'  '        '  •-."  •    »  "      "  '  ' 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  I /I 

He  sought  not  to  reason  with  himself,  to  ask  him 
self  if  he  was  wise;  he  admitted  to  himself  that 
common  sense  did  not  sanction  this  infatuation, 
but  what  infatuation  did  common  sense  ever  sanc 
tion?  The  man  who  could  love  wisely  was  a  mere 
arithmetician,  a  shrewd  figgurer,  an  exactor  of 
weights  and  measures;  the  man  with  a  deeper, 
warmer,  purer  soul  loved  heedlessly. 

Having  transacted  his  business  in  town,  Hawley 
went  to  the  county  clerk's  office,  to  seek  diversion 
in  this  clearing  house  of  gossip;  it  was  the  disturbed 
mind  asking  the  coarse  comedy  for  relief.  The 
old  loiterers  were  there,  sitting  about  the  stove, 
some  of  them  with  their  chairs  tipped  back  against 
the  wall,  others  leaning  forward  with  their  chins 
resting  on  the  crook  of  their  hickory  canes. 
Blanketed  farmers,  old  men  in  "leggings,"  negroes 
with  pieces  of  coffee  sack  tied  about  their  feet, 
stood  round  listening,  eager  to  catch  something 
that  might  be  taken  home  and  repeated.  Cold 
weather  was  the  topic.  The  past  was  scooped  and 
scraped;  severe  days  were  brought  back  and  ex 
hibited.  One  man  had  seen  the  Cumberland  river 
frozen  so  thick  that  a  drove  of  cattle  crossed  on 


1/2  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

the  ice;  and  then  the  liar  spoke  up.  He  had  seen 
the  river  freeze  to  the  bottom  and  crack  open  like 
a  chapped  hand. 

Lige  Crump  came  with  his  dogs  and  the  clerk 
did  not  attempt  to  put  them  out ;  he  was  a  candi 
date  for  re-election.  John  Roark  arrived  and  at 
once  began  a  harangue  on  reform.  And  to  give 
a  point  an  effective  clinch,  he  turned  to  Hawley 
and  asked:  "Ain't  that  so,  hah?" 

"I  don't  know,"  Hawley  answered.  "Reform, 
however,  is  always  a  pretty  safe  doctrine  to  preach. " 

"Yes,  but  a  better  doctrine  to  practice.  Why, 
helloa,  here's  Judge  Trapnell." 

The  Judge  came  forward,  shivering,  and  held 
his  hands  over  the  stove.  "Hawley,  I  came  by  your 
house,"  he  said. 

"Did  you?  Wish  I  had  known  you  were  coming; 
I  would  have  waited  for  you.  We'll  go  back 
together." 

"All  right.  Gentlemen,  this  puts  me  in  mind  of 
old  times." 

"Yes,"  said  Roark,  "and  it  will  put  you  in  mind 
of  hard  times  if  things  don't  change.  I'll  tell  you 
the  country  is  going  to  the  dogs.  We  need  a 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

change,  not  so  much  in  Congress  as  right  here  at 
home.  The  legislature  wants  to  be  purged." 

"Ah,"  the  Judge  remarked,  "and  which  leads  us 
to  infer  that  you  ought  to  be  sent  down  there." 

"Well,  yes,  if  you'll  have  it  that  way.' 

"But  I  won't  have  it  that  way,  Roark,"  the 
Judge  replied.  "I  like  you  well  enough  personally, 
sir,  but  I  can't  support  you  for  office." 

"I  don't  see  what  objections  you  can  have  to 
me,  Judge." 

"I  suppose  not,  sir,  and  in  fact  I  have  no  objec 
tions  to  you  personally,  but  your  political  creed  is 
not  staunch  enough." 

"I'm  a  democrat." 

"Yes,  this  year;   but  what  were  you  last  year?" 

"Oh,  well,  I  admit  that  I  have  changed  my  faith. 
It's  the  wise  man  that  changes,  you  know." 

"I  know  nothing  of  the  sort,  sir.  I  know  that 
some  men  have  flattered  themselves  with  this 
theory,  but  a  fundamental  change  is  unbecoming  a 
true  man." 

"Well,  now,  Judge,  that's  putting  it  pretty 
wrong." 

"The  truth  does  not  water  its  words,  sir.  But 
I  didn't  come  here  to  discuss  politics." 


174  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"But  say,  Judge,"  Lige  Crump  spoke  up,  "I 
think  John  is  the  man  we  want." 

"If  you  think  so,  vote  for  him." 

"You  bet  I'll  do  that  and  use  all  my  influence; 
but  I  don't  know  why  you  should  be  against  him." 

"If  you  don't  know  after  what  I've  said,  all 
right." 

"Oh,  no,  it  ain't  exactly  all  right,  Judge,  for  we 
don't  want  to  see  a  good  man  downed.  But  if 
you  say  so  we'll  let  it  go.  By  the  way,  Brother 
Hawley,  what's  your  politics?" 

"I  am  a  Republican."  Crump  softly  whistled: 
Hawley  added:  "I  am  a  Republican  and  don't 
think  that  I  am  called  on  to  apologize  for  the  fact. 
In  local  affairs  I  am  ready  to  vote  with  you,  but 
on  all  national  questions  I  hold  the  opinions  of  my 
party.  However,  I'm  not  a  politician,  and  I  didn't 
come  among  you  to  raise  political  issues  or  to  dis 
cuss  them,  but  to  raise  stock.  My  father  'hated 
slavery  and  at  the  same  time  was  a  slave  himself; 
and  his  master  was  business.  My  mother  wrote 
hymns  for  the  Abolitionists  and  praised  God  when 
the  shackles  fell." 

"Spoken  like  a  man!"  exclaimed  the  Judge.   "By 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  1/5 

the  Eternal,  stick  to  your  principles  whatever  they 
are.  I  don't  care  so  much  what  a  man' s  principles 
are  if  I  know  that  he  is  honest  in  them.  I  would 
rather  be  a  clod  and  know  myself  to  be  honest 
than  to  be  a  genius  and  suspect  myself  of  rascality. 
During  my  long  term  on  the  bench  my  prayer  was 
for  wisdom  and  honesty.  I  despise  a  hypocrite, 
I  hate  a  liar  and  I  loath  a  coward.  Hawley,  I'm 
ready  to  go  any  time  you  are." 

"Judge,"  said  an  old  lawyer,  "let  me  see  you  a 
minute." 

The  Judge  stepped  aside  with  him,  listened  a 
moment,  nodded,  scratched  his  head,  and  beckoned 
to  Hawley.  "By  the  way?"  he  asked,  putting  his 
hand  on  Hawley 's  shoulder  and  speaking  in  an 
undertone,  "do  you  ever  play  poker?" 

"I  used  to  but  I've  sworn  off,"  Hawley  answered. 
"It  took  me  five  years  to  find  out  that  I  couldn't 
play,  to  say  nothing  of  the  money  it  cost  me." 

"Good  thing  you  quit.  The  boys  are  going  to 
get  up  a  little  game  and  want  me  to  join  them; 
only  a  small  game — dollar  or  so  limit." 

"Go  ahead,  then,  Judge;  don't  let  me  take  you 
away." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"Well,  if  it's  just  the  same  to  you — " 

"That's  all  right;   go  ahead." 

"Very  well,  I'll  play  a  little  while.  By  the 
way,  can't  you  come  over  to-morrow  night?" 

"Yes,  I'll  be  there." 

Surely  the  old  man  was  not  built  after  the  fash 
ion  of  the  saints;  surely  the  blood  of  no  puritan 
ancestor  flowed  in  his  veins.  Touched  upon  a 
point  of  honor,  and  his  demands  were  as  close  as 
the  exactions  of  a  rigorous  morality;  but  he  could 
separate  morality  from  religion,  and  the  nicest 
shades  of  honor  might  be  found  in  a  game  of  poker. 
With  the  leisurely  class  of  his  generation,  he  held 
the  sophistical  belief  that  one  vice  is  an  off-set  to 
many  vices;  that  it  is  wise  to  choose  your  besetting 
sin  and  to  take  care  that  it  shall  be  a  small  one. 

The  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy  was  in  the 
library,  waiting  for  Hawley.  The  old  man  had 
placed  his  cudgel  on  a  table,  and  he  sat  near  it, 
with  his  arms  folded.  He  did  not  get  up  when 
the  master  of  the  house  entered. 

"Good  evening,  Professor." 

He  slowly  bowed  his  head  but   made  no    reply. 

Aunt  Lily  came  to  the  door  and  said  that  supper 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  177 

was  ready.  Hawley  invited  the  Professor  to  join 
him  but  the  old  man  shook  his  head.  He  sat  with 
out  moving  until  Hawley  returned. 

"Well,  how  is  everything?"  Hawley  asked. 

"There  is  no  everything  and  nothing  gets  along 
well.  We  may  say  that  the  machinery  of  the  earth 
is  perfect,  but  it  is  not.  It  shudders  and  shakes* 
down  cities.  We  may  say  that  the  sun  is  undis 
turbed,  but  the  jealous  and  whimsical  moon,  to 
cheat  it  of  its  glory,  slips  in  between  it  and  the 
earth.  Nothing  is  right;  moral  philosophy  comes 
nearest,  and  that  will  be  a  shade  off  to  the  right 
or  to  the  left  until  I  perfect  it.  But  I  promise 
that  it  shall  be  exact  before  we  build  our  university." 

"All  right,  Professor;  when  you  are  done  with 
your  part  of'the  work  let  me  know." 

"I  shall  do  so,  sir.  Of  late  I  have  been  strangely 
disturbed  by  shreds  of  suggestions  that  weave 
themselves  into  my  dreams.  I  know  that  my 
health  is  good,  for  I  feel  my  pulse  and  find  that  the 
engine  of  life  is  running  with  regular  throb.  And 
I  know  that  my  mind  is  sound,  but  this  is  a  great 
wonder  for  I  meet  with  fools  enough  to  jar  it  out 
of  plumb.  I  met  Willis  to-day  and  he  larruped 

Tennessee  Judge  13 


178  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

me  with  a  cat-o'-nine-tails  of  words:  he  tied  a  halter 
of  verbiage  about  my  neck  and  choked  me;  he 
rolled  up  a  bolus  of  adjectives  and  stuffed  it  down 
my  throat.  And  when  I  was  done  with  him,  along 
came  old  Moffet,  with  his  whining  theories  about 
the  physical  ailments  of  man.  I  spoke  to  him 
about  the  mind  of  man  and  he  winced.  Ah,  that's 
where  you  touch  them.  Man  is  afraid  of  mind. 
He  flees  from  it;  he  sees  in  it  a  cutting  questioner. 
Step  out  and  look  up,  and  you  are  under  the  dome 
of  a  mind — the  mind  of  the  universe,  star-brained, 
infinite.  This  evening  I  sat  in  my  house,  thinking, 
until  the  tip  ends  of  my  thoughts  froze  and  broke 
off.  I  was  frightened.  What  could  I  do  with  lumps 
of  ice  for  ideas?  Old  Ben  came  along  and  I 
shouted  to  him  to  build  a  fire  to  thaw  my  brain." 

"Did  he  make  the  fire? 

"Yes,  and  he  sat  there  and  listened  to  my 
thoughts  as  they  thawed  and  trickled  down,  drip, 
drip." 

"Ben  is  as  lazy  as  a  dog,  but  he's  a  pretty  good 
sort  of  a  darky,  Professor." 

"Yes,  and  he's  got  more  sense  than  old  Moffet." 
And  after  a  silence  he  added:  "I  don't  want  to 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  179 

go  home  to-night;    I  am  afraid  of  the  cold.      Have 
you  an  extra  bed?" 

"Yes,  in  this  room,"  Hawley  answered,  getting 
up  and  opening  a  door. 

"Then  I  will  bid  you  good-night.  But  let  me 
request  you  to  lock  the  door  from  this  side." 

"Why  do  you  want  it  locked  and  especially  from 
this  side?" 

The  professor  took  up  his  cudgel,  balanced  it  on 
his  finger  and  said:  "Thus  do  we  discover  the 
center  of  gravity.  Speculation  ceases  for  a  fact 
is  established.  But  we  have  not  yet  found  the 
mind's  center  of  gravity,  and  speculation  is  forced 
to  continue.  I  might  ask  myself  a  thousand  ques 
tions  as  to  why  I  want  that  door  locked  from  this 
side,  and  I  doubt  whether  I  should  be  able  to  an 
swer  the  simplest  one  of  them.  To  tell  you  the 
blunt  truth,  I  am  afraid  to  know  why  I  want  the 
door  locked.  But  will  you  lock  it?" 

"I  will." 

"I  thank  you.      Good-night." 

Hawley  locked  the  door,  went  into  the  dining- 
room,  called  Aunt  Lily;  and  when  the  old  woman 
came,  he  said:  "Look  here,  I  don't  like  the  way 
the  old  Professor  talks." 


ISO  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Oh,  dar  ain,  no  harm  in'im,  sah;   none  er  tall." 

"But  he  insisted  upon  my  locking  him  in  a  room." 

"Wy,  dat  doan   meek  no   diffunce,  sah.     Cose 

he  'sisted  on  it  ef  it  happened   ter   come    inter  his 

mine.      Go  on  ter  bed,  chile,  w'en  you  gits  ready 

an'  doan  pay  no  'tention  ter  'im.     Wait  er  minit. 

Did  you  notice  dat  I'se  usin'  dis  room  right  in  dar 

fur  er  kitchin  ?" 

"No,  but  what  of  it?" 

"Wy,  you  know  dat  till  mighty  lately  de  w'ite 
folks  'sisted  on  de  kitchin  bein'  'way  across  de 
yard,  an'  neber  in  de  big  house.  But  I  dun  moved 
in  yere,  sah,  caze  it's  handier,  an'  I  does  hope  dat 
you  doan  'ject  ter  hit." 

"I  wouldn't  have  known  it  if  you  hadn't  told  me." 

"Well,  I'se  much  obleeged  ter  you  fur  not  bein' 

pryin'  an'  'quisitive,  sah.     Wy  jes'  go  on  ter  bed 

an'  doan  pay  no  'tention  ter  dat  po'  ole  w'ite  man." 

Hawley  sat  down  at  his  desk,  smoked,  dreamed, 

ivrote  to  Dr.  Ford.     "You  may  not  have  intended 

it,"  he  said,  "but  a  red-hot  wire  ran  through  your 

letter  and  burnt  me.      'It    is  barely   possible    that 

the  young  woman   is   not   at   all   wrought   up. '      I 

wish  you  hadn't  said  that,  not  because  it  may  not 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  l8l 

be  true,  but  because  I  am  afraid  it  is.  She  is  so 
young  and  has  seen  so  little  of  life,  so  unschooled, 
that  if  she  cared  for  me  she  surely  could  not  hide 
it.  I  have  seen  a  thousand  evidences  of  her  un 
studied  frankness,  but  I  have  seen  nothing  to  tell 
me  that  she  is  in  love.  You  wouldn't  accuse  me 
of  a  lack  of  courage,  would  you?  I  don't  think 
you  would,  and  yet  I  am  a  coward.  To-day,  dur 
ing  a  general  talk  in  the  court-house,  the  old  Judge 
remarked  that  he  loathed  a  coward,  and  it  made 
my  flesh  creep.  A  woman  on  the  look-out  for  a 
husband  would  regard  me,  situated  as  I  am,  as  a 
pretty  fair  sort  of  a  catch;  but  this  girl  is  not  look 
ing  for  a  husband — she  is  avoiding  one.  She  has 
just  gone  away  to  stay  two  months,  and  to  me  the 
whole  country,  the  world,  has  been  desolated. 
She  went  this  morning  and  I  was  with  her  last 
night;  I  was  alone  with  her,  had  made  up  my 
mind  to  talk  like  a  lover  and  I  talked  like  "a  fool. 
But  after  all  there  is  a  close  kinship  between  the 
fool  and  the  lover.  We  are  to  write  to  each  other. 
Am  I  going  to  tell  her,  in  a  letter,  that  I  love  her? 
I  am  not.  I  won't  ink  my  avowal;  I  must  speak 
it;  and  thus  shall  I  get  even  with  myself  for  my 


1 82  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

cowardice.  If  I  had  remained  at  old  Knox  college 
a  little  longer,  or  if  I  had  spent  more  time  in  the 
study  of  verse,  I  might  twist  out  a  few  lines  in 
praise  of  her  beauty  and  her  'sylphic'  grace,  for 
rhyme  loiters  with  us  after  reason  has  flown.  But 
verses  are  studied  and  love  is  head- long.  So  I 
resort  not  to  the  tricks  of  meter. 

"My  cranks  are  still  about  me.  One  of  them  is 
asleep  in  an  adjoining  room  and  I  hear  him  snoar 
as  I  write.  He  ought  to  be  in  a  mad-house.  I 
have  always  heard  that  we  must  go  to  the  country 
to  find  odd  characters.  I  suppose  that's  true;  I 
know  I've  found  them.  I  think  that  I've  mentioned 
this  before.  Odd  characters!  I  could  have  found 
them  at  the  Washingtonian  Home. 

"I  have  become  strongly  attached  to  this  place. 
I  like  the  surroundings  and  the  most  of  the  people. 
The  majority  of  them  are  sturdy  citizens,  almost 
the  ideal  population  of  a  severely  democratic 
country.  Their  daughters  have  not  married  for 
eigners,  but  neighbors.  As  I  said  on  another 
occasion,  they. are  strictly  American." 

The  Professor  snoared,  gasped,  struggled  and 
snored  again.  Once  he  cried  out,  "Make  me  a 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  183 

fire,  you  black  rascal.  I'm  freezing."  The  wind 
blew,  the  old  clock  struck  the  midnight  hour,  the 
oak  tree  raked  its  frozen  fingers  on  the  roof. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Early  at  morning  the  Professor  knocked  on  the 
door  with  his  cudgel  and  loudly  demanded  his  re 
lease.  Hawley  bounced  out  of  bed  and  hastened 
to  obey  the  unmistakable  summon.  "Ah,  good 
morning,"  was  the  moral  philosopher's  pleasant 
greeting.  "I  am  happy  to  inform  you  that  the 
weather  and  my  brain  have  moderated,  a  coinci 
dence,  I  think  most  happily  blended.  Hear  the 
drippings  on  the  roof,  the  trickling  regret  of  a  cold, 
ill-humor.  Your  bed  is  soft  and  refreshing,  Mr. 
Hawley;  there  is  quiet  slumber  between  your 
sheets." 

"There  was  sleep  undoubtedly,  Professor,  but 
it  wasn't  quiet.  You  snoared  like  a  planing  mill." 

"Did  I?  It  was  rasping  trouble  grating  its 
way  out  of  me;  and  it  has  left  me  as  fresh  as  a 
boy.  But  I'm  sorry  that  I  disturbed  you.  Go 
back  to  bed  I  beseech  you,  and  have  your  sleep 

out." 

184 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  185 

"No,  breakfast  will  soon  be  ready.  I  hear  Aunt 
Lily  stirring  round  out  there  now.  Here's  a  fire 
in  the  library.  Come  in." 

"No,  I  must  leave  you;  I  have  an  appointment 
with  the  sun-rise.  Good  morning." 

He  went  away  with  his  cudgel  under  his  arm  and 
in  the  growing  light,  Hawley  saw  him  walking  in 
a  circle,  looking  upward.  His  hat  fell  off,  but  he 
stooped  not  to  get  it;  and  walking  round  again  he 
trod  upon  it. 

"Did  you  yere  dat  w'ite  man  er  snoa'n'  an'er 
snortin'  in  de  night?"  Aunt  Lily  asked,  as  Hawley 
sat  at  breakfast. 

"I  should  say  I  did.  And  it  was  a  longtime  be 
fore  I  could  get  to  sleep." 

"Laws  er  massy,  he  did  pester  me.  Dat's 
whut  er  man  git  fur  foolin'  'way  too  much  o  'his 
time  wid  books.  You  neenter  tell  me;  I  knows. 
Dat  wuz  it.  W'y,  I  knowd  him  w'en  he  wuz  er 
young  man;  an'  dar  wan't  er  brighter  pusson  no 
whar,  and  all  de  w'ite  folks  said  he  gwine  meek 
his  mark,  sho;  but  he  kep'  on  er  foolin'  wid  dem 
books  an'  da  got  him.  Da'll  git  anybody,  too, 
dat  keep  on  foolin'  wid  'em.  W'y  jes  look  at  de 


I  86  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

niggers  dat  da  been  educatin'.  Whut  does  da 
'mount  ter?  W'y,  sah,  one  o'  ole  Unk  Nat's  boys 
— lives  right  ober  yander — went  off  ter  school  sum 
mers  an'  come  back  he  did  finer  den  er  fiddle. 
W'y,  he  wuz  so  fine  dat  er  common  pusson  couldn" 
talk  ter  him  er  tall;  but  he  kep  on  er  foolin'  wid 
books  an'  he  kep,  on  er  foolin'  wid  er  pen  till  atter 
w'ile  he  put  his  name  on  some  sorter  piece  o' 
paper — I  doan  know  whut — an'  de  w'ite  folks  tuck 
{im  up,  da  did,  an',  sont  'im  ter  de  penetenchy. 
But  his  bruder  didn'  go  foolin'  roun'  no  books,  an' 
whut  come  o'  'im?  He's  er  livin'  down  yander  in 
de  bottoms  an'  is  doin'  monstus  well — got  de 
fines'  cow  I  eber  seed  in  my  life.  Yas,  sah,  deze 
yere  books  will  set  you  crazy  ur  make  you  put  yo' 
name  on  suthin'.  Uh,  huh,  I  knows  'em." 

"But  it  wasn't  education  that  made  the  boy  dis 
honest,  Aunt  Lily." 

"Den  I'd  like  ter  know  whut  it  wuz.  Edycation 
hepped  'im  ter  steal  an'  anythin'  dat  heps  er  pus- 
son  ter  steal  ain'  'hones',  an,  darfo'  is  powerful 
dangeus.  Oh,  I  knows;  you  kain  talk  ter  me.  I 
dun  been  yere  too  long."  . 

"But  he  was  a  thief  all  the  same,  and  he  would 
have  stolen  something  sooner  or  later." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  187 

"Oh,  yas,  sah,  he  mot  er  stold  er  little  suthin, 
an'  been  sont  ter  jail  fur  it,  but  goin'  ter  school 
teached  'im  ter  reach  way  up  yander  wid  his  mean 
ness,  an'  he  reached  up  ter  de  penytenchy.  I  tell 
you  dat  it  ain'  no  use  ter  talk  ter  rne  caze  I  knows 
— I'se  been  yere  er  long  time.  Oh,  dar  is  some 
men  dat  knows  how  ter  han'le  books.  Dar's  de 
Jedge,  fur  instance.  He  knows;  he  kin  read  all 
day  long  an'  it  won'  hurt  'im  er  bit;  but  he's  er 
'ception,  I  tell  you." 

"But  if  it  weren't  for  reading,  for  books,  Aunt 
Lily,  you  wouldn't  know  anything  about  religion, 
Moses,  the  apostles,  the  redemption  of  the  world." 

She  scratched  her  head.  "Yas,  sah,  I  reckon 
dat  so;  I  hadn'  thought  o'  dat.  But  I  yere  'em 
say  dat  folks  goes  crazy  frum  readin'  de  Bible; 
but  ef  de  Lawd  sets  er  pusson  crazy  fum  readin, 
de  Bible  He  do  it  fur  some  puppose  an'  I  ain' 
gwine  question  dat  puppose.  Dar's  one  thing, 
howeber,  dat's  mighty  sho' :  Er  pusson  dat  is 
likely  ter  read  de  Bible  too  much  ain'  gwine  steal 
nuthin'.  I  wuz  talkin'  'bout  man's  books;  I  wan' 
talkia'  'bout  de  catekisms  o'  de  Lawd." 

The  air  was  pleasant,  the  sun  shone  with  glad- 


1 88  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

some  warmth,  and  from  the  hill-side  came  a  dan 
cing  dazzle — the  ground  was  thawing.  Drip,  drip, 
under  the  trees,  and  drip,  drip  under  the  eaves  of 
the  house.  The  mood  of  April  with  the  eye  of 
June,  a  summer's  day,  which  wantonly  breaking 
loose  from  some  distant  country's  season,  had 
frolicked  its  aimless  course  into  the  midst  of  a 
Tennessee  winter. 

The  old  Judge  walked  about  in  his  orchard, 
humming  a  tune.  To  him  a  cheerful  turn  of 
weather,  a  strain  of  music,  served  but  to  recall 
some  feature  of  the  long  ago;  a  present  pleasure 
was  but  the  spirit  of  some  dead  happiness  come 
back  to  refresh  its  memory  of  a  scene  once  familiar. 
His  wife  came  out  and  stood  with  her  arms  resting 
on  the  fence. 

"I  didn't  suppose  you'd  feel  SQ  well  this  morning 
after  having  been  up  nearly  all  night,"  she  said. 

"Madam,  have  you  come  out  here  to  nag  at  me?" 

"Nag  at  you.      I  just  said — " 

"I  know  what  you  just  said.  By  the  Eternal,  if 
1  ever  stay  out  three  minutes  after  the  time  laid 
down  for  me  to  come  in  I  never  hear  the  last  of 
it.  Go  ahead  now,  and  say  what  you  want  to." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  189 

"Oh,  I  didn't  have  anything  to  say,  particularly." 

"Then  I'd  better  be  off.  When  a  woman  declares 
that  she  has  nothing  to  say,  she's  loaded." 

"But  I  do  think  that  when  you  intend  to  stay  out 
all  night  you  ought  to  let  me  know." 

"Oh,  I  knew  it  was  coming;  knew  you  couldn't 
hold  it  but  a  moment  longer." 

"I  don't  see  what  business  could  keep  a  man 
away  all  night — an  old  man,  at  that." 

"Do  you  want  me  to  butt  my  head  against  this 
tree,  or  what  do  you  want?  Say  the  word." 

"Now,  Judge,  what's  the  use  in  acting  that  way. 
I  haven't  said  anything." 

"Of  course  not.  You  never  do.  I'll  swear  I'd 
rather  you'd  take  a  gun  and  shoot  at  me  than  to 
keep  hinting  round.  I  had  no  way  of  letting  you 
know  that  I  was  going  to  stay  out  so  late — I  didn't 
know  I  was  going  to  stay  so  late." 

"No,  but  I  don't  see  the  use  of  a  man  sitting  up 
all  night—" 

"Doing  what,  madam;  doing  what?  Out  with  it." 

"Oh,  I  know  what  you  were  doing,  and  I  lay  you 
lost  every  cent  you  had  with  you." 

"That's  where  your  intuition  fails  you.  I  didn't 
lose  a  cent;  I  won." 


190  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Well,  it  was  a  rare  thing.  How  much  did  you 
win?" 

"About  sixty-five  dollars." 

"Oh,  but  it's  wrong  to  take  people's  money 
that  way.  But  I  didn't  come  out  to  scold  you.  A 
man  must  have  some  recreation,  I  suppose.  Isn't 
it  a  beautiful  day?  I  think  I'll  drive  to  town  this 
morning.  I'm  so  glad  you're  feeling  well;  you 
haven't  been  very  strong  lately.  Wait,  I'm  coming 
over  to  walk  with  you.  Did  you  hear  me  say  that 
I  was  going  to  town  this  morning?"  she  asked 
taking  his  arm. 

"Yes;  and  it's  a  good  time  to  go." 

"I  wanted  to  get  some  things.  I  wish  you'd  let 
me  have  about  fifty  dollars." 

Ah,  it  made  a  great  difference  whether  he  won  or 
lost.  To  win  was  a  light  and  humorous  wrong,  a 
sweet  rascality;  but  to  lose  was  a  dark  and  frown 
ing  wickedness. 

Hawley  came  at  evening  and  found  the  old  man 
in  a  genial  mood;  found  Mrs.  Trapnell's  voice 
as  soft  as  the  subdued  tones  of  a  flute.  The  smell 
of  new  goods  was  in  the  house. 

"Walk  right  in,"  said  the  Judge.  "Hah,  I  have 
put  off  my  toddy  waiting  for  you." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  IQI 

"And  I  think-you  are  about  the  only  man  that 
he  would  wait  for,  Mr.  Hawley,"  Mrs.  Trapnell 
spoke  up.  "He  is  very  punctual." 

"If  the  toddy  happens  to  be  as  good  as  the  com 
pliment  I  know  I  shall  enjoy  it, "the  visitor  replied. 

"It  may  be  sweeter  and  yet  not  so  sincere,"  the 
Judge  rejoined.  "Mandy,  won't  you  take  a  little?" 

"Just  pour  me  out  a  sip.  That's  a  plenty,  I  thank 
you." 

But  what  .a  desolation  showed  itself  through  this 
gauze  of  good  humor.  The  house  was  but  a  shell; 
the  soul  was  gone.,  and  the  fireplace  with  its 
smothered  flame,  was  an  eye  that  had  lost  its  sight. 
A  dark  shadow  seemed  to  lie  where  the  girl  had 
been  accustomed  to  sit,  and  Hawley  gazed  at  the 
spot, -but  she  had  been  also  wont  to  sit  near  the 
window,  and  the  shadow  shifted  from  one  place  to 
the  other  to  accommodate  the  lover's  fancy.  He 
had  to  smiJe  at  this  sympathy  shown  by  intangible 
things;  self  ridicule,  the  keen  scalpel  that  lances 
cur  swollen  prominence,  that  cuts  through  the  skin 
and  shows  how  watery  is  the  blood  of  our  own 
narrow  yearning,  touched  him  with  its  sharp  point. 
Had  he  been  stronger,  the  place  might  now  be 


192  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

radiant  with  the  memory  of  a  smile  of  happiness, 
might  hold  the  echo-melody  of  words  spoken  in 
tenderest  love.  But  he  had  been  weak,  awkward; 
he  had  been  the  clumsy  boy  at  a  dance. 

They  talked  about  the  sudden  change  in  the 
weather  and  of  that  bugaboo  ever  in  sight,  the 
threatened  financial  stringency;  speculation  in 
stocks  was  too  rampant.  They  touched  upon  fast 
horses  as  a  subject,  and  the  Judge,  with  a  wince, 
acknowledged  that  a  boasted  and  cherished  record 
of  the  past  had  been  beaten.  The  success  of  the 
public  school  system  in  the  South  was  discussed, 
education  in  general  was  commented  upon  and 
this  led  to  books. 

"There  was  a  time  when  a  man  could  talk  about 
books,"  said  the  Judge  "but  if  he  does  so  now  they 
call  him  a  pedant.  If  he  lives  in  the  city  he  must 
confine  himself  to  a  dry  discussion  of  business 
affairs  and  politics  that  effect  business;  if  he  lives 
in  the  country  he  is  expected  to  talk  about  cattle, 
grass,  the  corn  crop,  and  a  neighbor's  candidacy 
for  office.  But  when  I  was  a  young  man  people 
mixed  thought  with  politics.  I  have  heard  old 
John  Bell — and  he  was  not  of  my  political  faith 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  193 

mind  you — talk  on  books  by  the  hour  and  people 
listened  to  him.  But  it  isn't  that  way  now.  A 
politician  must  tell  the  farmer  that  he  can  make 
a  bushel  of  potatoes  worth  more  and  although  the 
farmer  knows  that  this  is  a  lie,  yet  he  demands  that 
it  shall  be  told.  At  one  time,  sir,  the  South  had 
the  promise  of  a  literature,  but  that  time  is  past. 
The  poets  were  killed  in  the  war  and  the  prose 
writers,  the  historians,  the  novelists,  the  essayists, 
have  gone  to  the  lawyer's  office,  the  carpenter 
shop,  the  corn-field  to  make  a  living.' 

"And  yet,"  Hawley  replied,  "some  of  the  best 
writing  in  the  magazines  comes  from  the  South." 

"Some  of  the  most  tiresome  twaddle  does,  sir. 
Where  is  the  rollicking  fun  of  Sut  Lovengood? 
Where  is  the  vivid  fancy  of  Simms?  What  has 
become  of  the  charming  grotesqueness  of  Major 
Jones'  Courtship?  All  gone,  sir,  and  drivil  has 
taken  their  place." 

"I  don't  agree  with  you,  but  you  may  have  it 
your  own  way." 

"Don't  agree  with  me  but  I  may  have  it  my  own 
way!  By  the  Eternal,  sir,  there  is  but  one  way 
that  is  the  right  way.  The  North  has  done  better 

Tennessee  Judge  13 


194  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

but    it    is    weakening.      Your     poets    are     dead." 

"Yes,  but  a  vigorous  crop  may  be   coming   on." 

"Ah,  a  rank  crop,  all  stalk  and  no  grain." 

"Judge,   your   view     is    too    gloomy.     You    are 

afflicted  with  far  sightedness  —  you  can't  see  a  thing 

except  at  a  distance,  and  even  then  you  must  turn 

and  look   back.     There    has    never  been    a  great 

contemporane  ous  literature,  for  the    narrow    lines 

of  the  critic  run  into  the  past.      It  take  us   almost 

a  generation  to  discover  that  a  writer   is  original; 

at  first   we   call    him   crude,  wanting  in    art;  but 

afterward  we  may  find  that  what  we  took   to  be  a 

lack  of  finish  is  a  new  art,    stronger,  bolder   than 

the  old  art.     Carlyle— " 

"What,  that  delirium  in  a  red  gown !"  the  Judge 
exclaimed.  "That  sifter  of  German  chaff!  Don't 
talk  about  him.  He  got  into  a  wild  wrangle  with 
himself  and  called  it  the  French  Revolution;  he 
baptized  Cromwell,  the  blood-clotted  butcher  and 
called  him  a  saint.  He  wrote  for  the  Teutonic 
mind,  and  when  you  give  a  German  something  he 
can't  understand,  he  calls  it  philosophy.  Carlyle 
hated  Americans  and  I  therefore  hate  him." 

"But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  his  greatness 
as  a  writer,"  said  Hawley. 


A    TENNESSEE    TUDGE  195 

"Greatness  as  a  writer!  He  had  no  greatness 
as  a  writer.  He  was  a  religious  bigot  without  a 
God;  he  worshiped  a  turgid  abstraction  which 
was  himself.  He  said  to  Americans,  'don't  come 
near  me,  but  read  me;  I  will  not  see  you  but  I 
will  give  you  advice.'  I  Gad,  I  would  stuff  rat 
holes  with  such  advice." 

Hawley  laughed.  "Oh,  it  is  not  humorous  to 
me,"  said  the  Judge.  "I  hate  a  man  that  hates 
my  country.  I  used  to  read  Dickens,  the  prig, 
but  when  he  printed  his  American  Notes,  I  despised 
him.  Ah,  and  old  Throgmorton,  of  Louisville,  came 
within  one  of  throwing  him  out  of  a  window,  the 
insolent,  velveteen-garbed  slanderer." 

"But,  Judge,  the  educated,  progressive  people 
in  the  North  are  beginning  to  acknowledge  that 
we  were  open  to  ridicule,  that  his  strictures  were 
mainly  right." 

"Well,  then,  sir,  the  North  is  no  longer  Ameri 
can." 

"Yes,  we  are  still  Americans  but  we  are  advanc 
ing;  we  are  learning  that  we  once  permitted  our 
faults  to  dazzle  our  eyes." 

"We  used  to  have  a  book  that  I    enjoyed    very 


196  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

much,"  said  Mrs.  Trapnell.  "It  was  called 'Tem 
pest  and  Sunshine.'  Do  you  remember  it,  Judge?" 

"Yes,  madam,  I  remember  a  shallow  pan  of 
skimmed  milk  that  went  under  that  name." 

"Why,  Judge,  I  thought  it  was  beautiful.  Did 
you  ever  read  it,  Mr.  Hawley?" 

"I  believe  I  have  thoughtlessly  picked  it  up," 
Hawley  answered. 

"Then  it  is  a  wonder  you  didn't  read  it  for  it's 
interesting  from  the  very  start.  Ida  used  to  think 
it  was  charming." 

"Some  of  the  descriptions  are  very  fine,"  said 
Hawley.  He  did  not  notice  the  half-formed  smile 
on  the  woman's  lips. 

"Have  you  seen  Charley  Willis  lately?"  the 
Judge  asked. 

"I  saw  him  yesterday,"  Hawley  answered. 

"Is  he  still  drunk?" 

"Why,  not  that  I  noticed.  He  hadn't  changed 
any." 

"Ah,  and  that  was  because  you  have  never  seen 
him  sober.  He's  been  drunk  for  six  months." 

"Oh,  not  that  long,  Judge,"  Mrs.  Trapnell  pro 
tested. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  197 

"Yes,  madam,  longer  than  that.  It's  about  his 
time  to  sober  up,  and  when  he  does  you'll  see  the 
most  remorseful  human  being  that  ever  walked 
the  path  of  regret.  Strange  fellow,  a  man  who 
has  never  found  his  place.  When  he's  drunk 
people  say  that  if  he  didn't  drink  he  would  be  a 
great  man;  and  when  he's  sober  they  say  he  is 
not  so  bright  as  he  was  when  he  drank.  But 
he's  about  the  same,  drunk  or  sober.  I  do  believe 
it's  raining." 

"Yes  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Trapnell,  "and  I'll  warrant 
you  that  Milly  forgot  to  put  the  tubs  out." 

"Madam,  I  think  that's  a  hint  for  me  to  go  out 
there  in  the  dark  and  skin  my  old  shins,  trying  to 
catch  a  few  drops  of  rain  water,  but  I'm  not  going." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  want  you  to  go,  Judge." 

"No,  but  I  went  out  there  tugging  with  sawed 
off  barrels  the  last  time  it  rained  and  came  back 
barked  like  a  poplar  pole  in  a  horse  lot." 

"Why  a  poplar  pole  in  a  horse  lot?"  Hawley 
asked,  laughing. 

"Haven't  you  advanced  that  far  in  stock  raising? 
Horses  like  to  gnaw  green  poplar  bark ;  it's  a  tonic. " 

"I  hear  Milly  fixing  the  tubs,"  said  Mrs.  Trap 
nell. 


198  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Good!"  cried  the  Judge  with  mock  emphasis,  "but 
if  we  don't  go  out  there  and  pick  her  up  dead  it 
will  be  a  surprise  to  me!  Hawley,  I  was  born 
here  and  ought  to  know  my  surroundings,  but 
every  dark  night  adds  a  new  sharp  corner  to  the 
place,  and  they  come  faster,  too,  as  I  grow  older." 

The  rain  poured;  the  hour  grew  late  and  Hawley 
arose  to  go.  "No,  sir," declared  the  Judge,  "you're 
not  going  out  such  a  night  as  this.  We've  got 
lots  of  room  here;  go  to  bed  if  you're  sleepy." 

"But  I  must  go,  Judge." 

"What,  in  this  pour-down.    Man,  you  are  mad." 

He  persisted,  fought  off  every  entreaty  and  went 
out  into  the  beshowered  night.  The  weather  had 
been  so  fine  that  he  had  walked  over,  and  now  he 
trudged  along  the  turn-pike,  holding  an  old  family 
umbrella,  musing;  and  his  thoughts  caught  the 
rhythm  of  the  rain  and  flowed  in  monotonous 
measure. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Spring  came  early.  The  peach  trees  bloomed  in 
February  and  the  corn  was  up  in  March.  How 
delightful  was  this  sprouting  time  to  a  man  from  a 
climate  where  March  is  the  enemy  of  all  living 
creatures.  And  at  evening  when  this  man  walked 
abroa'd  in  the  soft  air,  he  pictured  the  frozen  lake  - 
shore,  heard  the  grinding  of  the  tumbled  ice,  the 
wild  lapping  of  the  waves,  the  moaning  of  the 
telegraph  wires,  the  cold  clang  of  the  car-bell;  he 
saw  the  truckman  slapping  himself  for  warmth,  the 
news  boy  with  benumbed  fingers  fumbling  to  make 
change,  the  pale  woman  with  the  thin  shawl,  the 
muddy  snow  in  the  street. 

Hawley  and  Ida  Trapnell  had  kept  up  a  corres 
pondence,  but  how  spiritless,  colorless,  tame  had 
been  their  letters.  Each  appeared  to  be  under 
restraint  lest  some  strong  word  might  escape ;  each 
made  many  erasures  as  if  to  euphemize  a  strong 

sentiment  into  a  nothingness.      One  was  surprised 

199 


200  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

that  the  other  was  not  more  natural,  but  the  sur 
prise  was  not  expressed;  the  other  might  have 
been  waiting  for  a  mere  hint,  but  no  hint  was 
given.  In  one  letter  the  girl  told  of  a  shaggy  dog 
that  her  uncle  owned;  that  he  was  a  perfect  mon 
ster  to  look  at,  but  that  he  was  very  gentle,  and  that 
she  had  gone  out  with  him  and  caught  a  rabbit. 
And  in  exchange  for  this  estimate  of  the  dog's 
character  and  the  bit  of  adventure  that  followed 
it,  Hawley  sent  an  account  of  a  visit  to  the  court 
house.  Once,  when  he  had  just  seen  the  first 
peach-blossom,  he  thought  to  tell  her  that  he  loved 
her,  but  his  pen  was  too  cold  and  too  awkward. 
He  would  wait,  and  he  did  wait. 

One  afternoon  when  he  had  just  got  rid  of  John 
Roark,  Mr.  Willis  came,  not  with  so  many  flour 
ishes  of  arm  and  caper  of  leg,  but  with  tremulous 
voice  and  sad  countenance. 

"Let  me  lie  on  that  sofa/'  he  said  as  he  came 
into  the  library. 

"All  right.     What's  the  matter?     Are  you  sick?" 

"Sick!  I'm  sicker  than  all  the  sick  horses  that 
were  ever  sick.  I'm  dead;  but  I'm  sober.  Ah, 
Lord,  what  a  fool  a  man  is,"  he  added,  stretching 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2OI 

himself  on  the  sofa.  "If  I  haven't  had  a  time  of 
it  I  don't  know  who  has.  Oh,  I  brought  it  on 
myself;  I  know  that,  but  it's  a  poor  consolation. 
Just  look  at  me;  cold  sweat  standing  out  on  me 
like  warts  on  a  toad." 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  take  a  little 
whiskey?  There's  some  here." 

The  thought  gagged  him.  Don't  talk  about 
whiskey;  for  the  Lord's  sake  don't  mention  it. 
I'm  done;  I've  got  enough.  This  is  the  longest 
siege  lever  had  and  it  shall  be  the  last."  He 
turned  over  and  began  to  grabble  in  his  pocket. 
"Here's  the  fifty  dollars  I  borrowed  from  you." 

"You  needn't  pay  it  now.      You  may  need  it." 

"Need  it?  What  do  I  need  it  for?  I've  got  all 
the  whisky  I  want.  I  borrowed  it  to  give  to  you 
and  you  might  as  well  take  it.  After  a  while  I 
may  borrow  it  again  to  give  back  to  the  other 
fellow.  I  am  a  financier."  He  threw  the  money 
on  a  table.  "I  reckon  I  ought  to  die  right  now; 
there  isn't  any  use  living  in  this  world  any  way. 
All  we  can  do  is  to  get  drunk  on  prospects  and 
sober  up  on  disappointment.  It  does  seem  to  me 
that  with  my  ability  I  ought  to  do  better  but  I 


2O2  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

don't.  Why,  if  a  man  only  knew  where  to  place 
me  I'd  be  worth  five  hundred  dollars  a  month  to 
him;  instead  of  having  a  chance  to  concentrate 
myself  I  simply  flash  off  suggestions  and  other 
people  take  them  and  get  rich." 

"Willis,  you  may  possibly  have  the  wrong  idea 
of  yourself.  Did  you  ever  think  of  that?" 

"That's  right,  speak  out.  I  like  to  be  told  of 
my  faults;  but  I  have  estimated  myself  and  I  know 
what  I'm  worth.  I'm  honest,  I'm  honorable,  and 
although  I'm  lying  here  struggling  to  get  sober,  yet 
I  try  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"But  have  you  accomplished  enough  when  you 
assure  yourself  of  all  this?  Don't  you  think  that 
some  of  the  time  you  have  employed  in  persuading 
yourself  that  you  are  a  gentleman  might  have  been 
better  spent?  Mind  you  I  don't  mean  any  offense, 
but  we  may  hypnotize  ourselves  into  the  belief  that 
we  are  almost  anything.  It  seems  to  me  that  you 
are  a  monomaniac  on  the  subject  of  self,  not  that 
you  are  selfish,  but  that  you  keep  your  mind  on 
yourself.  I  heard  you  say  that  your  head  was  full 
of  lofty  ideas  but  that  you  hadn't  the  language 
with  which  to  express  them.  A  clear  idea  expresses 
itself;  you  can  scarcely  hold  it  back." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2O3 

"Go  ahead,  I  say,  and  tell  me  of  my  faults,  but 
I  try  to  be  a  gentleman." 

"Willis,  that's  just  the  trouble  with  the  South; 
it  tries  to  be  a  gentleman.  But  what  is  a  gentle 
man,  that  mysterious  personage,  that  vague  some 
thing  that  you  are  trying  to  imitate?" 

"A  gentleman,  sir,  is  one  who  has  a  regard  for 
the  feelings  of  others." 

"A  very  true  definition;  but  is  that  all  there  is 
to  life?  The  most  ignorant  man  that  ever  dug  a 
ditch  may  have  a  regard  for  the  feelings  of  others; 
he  may  go  further  and  have  a  regard  for  the  feel 
ings  of  all  animal  life,  but  this  praiseworthy 
instinct  does  not  alone  place  him  in  a  position  to 
be  a  gentleman." 

"I  never  dug  a  ditch  in  my  life,  sir." 

"I  didn't  even  intimate  that  you  had,  but  I  will 
say  that  good  men  have  dug  ditches  and  that  a 
man  is  truest  to  himself  when  he  performs  some 
sort  of  labor  no  matter  whether  it  is  digging  in  the 
ground  or  expounding  a  philosophy.  But  you 
seem  to  think  that  having  discovered  in  yourself 
an  essence  too  fine  for  other  men  to  catch,  and 
having  determined  to  be  a  gentleman,  you  have 


2O4  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

discharged  your  whole  duty;  all  your  ills  are  trace 
able  to  the  failure  of  dlher  men  to  settle  upon  that 
something,  that  vague  service  which  you  feel  your 
self  so  able  to  perform.  If  you  can't  tell  what 
you  are  good  for,  no  other  man  is  ever  likely  to 
find  out.  You  tell  me  of  your  value  and  I  ask, 
'what  can  you  do?'  You  don't  tell  me,  but  blame 
me  for  not  understanding  you.  Willis,  if  a  man 
has  good  health  and  is  then  a  failure,  it  is  his  own 
fault." 

While  Hawley  was  talking  Willis  flounced  about 
en  the  sofa;  he  pressed  his  temples,  he  picked  his 
tongue  for  a  phrase,  he  groaned,  sighed,  shut  his 
eyes,  wallowed  as  if  in  an  agony,  and  then  sat  up. 

"Banished  from  Rome,"  he  began,  making  a 
flourish  and  raising  his  voice  to  a  high  pitch, 
"banished  from  Rome,  but  what  is  banished  but  set 
free  from  daily  contact  with  things  I  loathe? 
That  is  a  comforting  thought." 

"Yes,  it's  a  good  thought,  but  I  don't  see  the 
application.  You  are  not  a  Roman  and  you  haven't 
been  banished." 

"The  application  is  as  clear  as  the  thought  itself, 
and  is  as  applicable  to  me  as  it  was  to  old — old — 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  2O$ 

What's-his-name?  Men  banish  me  because  they 
don't  understand  me,  and  when  I  get  off  to  myself 
I  feel  that  I  have  been  set  free.  But  as  I  said  be 
fore,  all  I  ask  is  an  opportunity  to  prove  my 
abilities." 

"What  are  your  abilities?" 

"Ah,  what  is  man?  It  would  take  you  an  age 
to  tell  me." 

"And  it  would  take  you  about  that  long  to  tell 
your  abilities,  Willis.  Don't  you  think  you'd  rather 
talk  than  to  work?" 

"Talk!  Why,  my  dear  sir,  I  despise  talk;  I  like 
to  commune  with  nature  but  not  to  disturb  her 
silence.  You  ought  to  have  seen  a  farm  I  had 
once.  The  finest  of  everything  that  ever  grew;  I 
took  a  worn-out  place  and  brought  it  up  to  per 
fection." 

"What  became  of  it?" 

"The  miserable  cur  that  owned  the  farm  became 
jealous  of  me  and  raised  the  rent  three  dollars  on 
an  acre,  and — banished  from  Rome." 

"I  thought  you  still  had  a  good  farm  up  the 
river. " 

"No,  I  made  it  too  valuable  and  the  owner  wants 


2O6  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

it — he  stood  by  greedily  and  saw  my  ideas  blossom 
and  now  he  wants  to  pick  the  flowers." 

"Well,  if  you  want  land  to  cultivate  you  shall 
have  it;  I'll  let  you  have  all  you  can  take  care  of." 

"Will  you?  Mr.  Hawley,  you  have  touched  me 
deeply,  you  have  indeed,  sir.  How  much  will  you 
let  me  have?" 

"All  you  want,  I  tell  you." 

"You  touch  me  deeply,  sir,"  he  repeated,  press 
ing  his  breast  with  his  long  forefinger  as  if  he 
would  bore  in  and  illustrate  the  depth  to  which  the 
feeling  of  gratitude  had  penetrated.  "I  can't  tell 
you  how  much  I  am  impressed,  sir;  I  am  not  a 
man  of  many  words;  I  have  ideas  but  not  the 
language  to  express  them.  What,  asparagus !"  he 
broke  off  with  a  flourish.  "I  have  raised  the  finest 
asparagus  that  ever  grew.  And  tomatoes — but  I 
came  here  to  talk;  I  can't  afford  to  idle  away  my 
time.  Work  is  now  the  watch-word ;  I  will  go  out 
and  survey  my  possessions.  By  the  way,  did  I  tell 
you  that  Ida  Trapnell  had  just  got  back?  Well, 
I  meant  to;  but  I  haven't  time  to  talk  about  her. 
Out  to  the  land  of  Goshen — back  to  Rome.  Good 
day." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2O/ 

A  new  thrill  was  in  the  air;  the  sun  shone  far 
aslant,  but  it  was  brighter  than  it  had  been  at 
noon.  Aroused  as  if  he  had  shaken  off  a  stupor, 
buoyed  by  a  fresh  strength,  Hawley  took  his  way 
across  the  fields,  looking  back  with  pity  upon  his 
former  weakness,  bold  as  a  Scandinavian  Bersekir. 
But  when  he  crossed  the  turnpike  and  saw  the  girl, 
standing  in  the  yard  with  her  face  turned  from 
him,  when  he  heard  her  idly  laughing  at  a  young 
dog  that  ran  round  and  round  for  her  amusement, 
he  felt  that  what  he  had  looked  upon  as  a  well- 
warranted  resolution  might  after  all  be  but  an  ill- 
warranted  vanity.  He  was  stricken  with  a  fear 
that  to  himself  he  might  attribute  qualities  and 
attractions  that  he  did  not  possess;  and  yet  he 
felt  that  if  he  were  a  small  man,  with  the  self-im 
portant  nature  that  seems  to  belong  to  the  under 
sized,  he  would  have  the  courage  plainly  to  speak 
his  mind;  but  he  was  a  large  man  and  took  stock 
of  his  weakness.  He  wondered  if  little  women 
knew  that  big  men  were  cowards,  and  that  if  know 
ing  it,  they  sought  to  have  fun  with  them.  He 
stood  at  the  gate  and  gazed  upon  her,  this  luscious 
beauty  with  unconscious  grace,  child  enough  to 


2O8  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

romp  and  woman  enough  to  thrill.  The  dog  barked; 
she  turned  about  and  saw  him.  She  started  to 
run  toward  him,  but  checked  herself.  He  did  not 
notice  the  impulse,  did  not  see'  the  restraint;  he 
was  fumbling  with  the  gate  latch.  She  met  him 
gladly,  with  no  sign  of  embarrassment,  and  with  no 
tremor  in  her  voice  when  she  spoke  to  him.  They 
went  into  the  house.  How  the  old  room  had  been 
brightened;  it  was  no  longer  a  shell;  the  soul  had 
returned. 

They  were  alone.  She  sat  on  the  piano  stool, 
leaning  back  in  the  attitude  that  had  first  captivated 
him,  talking  gayly  of  her  visit,  laughing  at  nothing. 
She  had  not  intended  to  stay  so  long,  but  had 
found  everything  so  pleasant ;  there  were  so  many 
young  people  in  that  neighborhood  and  they  knew 
so  well  how  to  enjoy  themselves.  She  had  been 
about  a  great  deal  and  that  was  the  reason  she  had 
not  been  very  prompt  as  a  correspondent;  she 
had  seen  Look  Out  Mountain,  had  visited  the 
crumbling  colony  planted  by  the  author  of  Tom 
Brown.  But  she  was  very  glad  to  get  back, 
although  she  knew  that  no  one  had  missed  her 
very  much.  Hawley  protested;  he  had  missed  her 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2OQ 

very  much.  Other  people  said  that  the  winter 
was  short ;  it  had  been  long  to  him,  and  yet  he 
was  accustomed  to  long  winters.  The  Judge  came 
in,  and  they  heard  his  wife  calling  him  from  some 
distant  part  of  the  house;  but  he  paid  no  attention 
to  her;  he  wanted  to  talk  to  Hawley. 

The  afternoon  was  gone  and  with  the  evening 
came  a  number  of  neighbors,  men,  women  and 
children,  and  especially  a  boy,  big-headed  and 
motley.  He  was  a  source  of  unceasing  annoyance. 
If  a  door  was  shut  against  him  he  beat  on  it  with 
a  stick.  He  got  a  pole  that  had  been  used  for  a 
cloth-line  prop,  brought  it  into  the  house,  swung 
it  around  and  cracked  Hawley  on  the  head  with  it. 
The  mother  cried  out,  "Oh,  Andrew  D.  Boyle,  why 
will  you  do  such  things?  Why  don't  you  be  good?" 
And  Hawley,  wondering  why  she  did  not  put  the 
wretch  in  irons,  assured  her  that  he  was  not  hurt, 
that  the  boy  was  all  right.  Somebody  said  that  the 
fish  had  begun  to  bite  and  this  interested  the  girl. 
Did  Mr.  Hawley  like  to  fish?  Mr.  Hawley  was 
passionately  fond  of  fishing.  She  was  so  glad  to 
know  it.  To-morrow  they  would  go  up  the  creek 
and  catch  perch,  but  not  cat  fish;  she  was  afraid 

Tennessee  Judge    J£ 


2IO  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

to  take  them  off  the  hook;  they  were  such  ugly 
things  any  way.  But  perch  were  beautiful,  red, 
yellow,  gold,  pink;  they  looked  as  if  they  might 
have  been  showered  from  a  rain-bow.  It  was  best 
to  go  early,  if  the  day  were  fine,  and  eat  luncheon 
on  the  rocks.  It  would  be  delightful.  Andrew  D. 
Boyle  blurted  out  that  he  was  going,  and  his  mother 
looked  at  Hawley  and  in  a  sweet,  insinuating  tone, 
said:  "Perhaps  the  gentleman  doesn't  want  you, 
dear."  PerJiaps  he  did  not  want  him!  Hawley 
could  have  wrung  the  motley  rascal's  neck,  but  he 
thus  replied  to  the  mother:  "He  would  no  doubt 
be  an  interesting  companion,  but  I  don't  know 
yet  that  I  can  go."  , 

Would  these  annoying  people  stay  forever?  The 
clock  struck  eleven.  The  boy  was  asleep,  limp 
in  a  chair,  but  his  mother  continued  to  talk 
as  if  she  had  just  fairly  begun.  Some  place 
might  now  be  safe  from  the  marauding  roysterer, 
but  it  was  time  to  be  off  and  Hawley  arose  to  go. 
Ida  went  with  him  into  the  hall.  Was  it  true  that 
he  might  not  be  able  to  go  fishing?  He  laughed, 
and  in  his  voice  there  was  something  that  told  her 
that  no  earthly  engagement  could  hold  him  back. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  cloud-frown  hung  where  the  sun  rose,  the  air 
was  heavy,  motionless;  and  in  warmth,  the  day 
was  beyond  the  warrant  of  the  season.  The  cattle 
left  the  woods  and  stood  huddled  together  in  the 
open.  A  luminous  mist  hung  over  the  creek.  A 
dead  leaf,  without  apparent  cause,  whirled  round 
and  round  in  the  yard.  The  sun  came  up,  fierce, 
glaring;  and  the  mist  growing  brighter,  faded  into 
the  sheen  of  the  hot  and  glittering  day.  The 
threat  of  rain  was  gone. 

Up  the  creek  the  lovers  went,  swinging  a  basket 
between  them  as  they  walked.  The  girl  was 
chatty  with  a  gossip  that  flitted  from  one  thing  to. 
another,  talking  with  words  that  would  make  no 
sense  in  print,  laughing  with  a  music  that  would 
sweeten  an  opera.  Now  on  the  gravelly  strand  of 
the  stream  they  strolled,  now  over  the  rocks  they 

climbed. 

* 

"Oh,  we'll  have  to  go   on   the   other   side,"  she 


212  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

said,  halting.  "Don't  you  see  how  shallow  the 
water  is  all  along  here.  But  yonder  is  a  good 
place,  up  there  under  the  bluff." 

"But  how  can  we  cross  the  creek?  It's  more 
than  a  mile  down  to  the  bridge." 

"And  it  won't  do  to  go  away  back  there,"  she 
said.  "I'll  tell  you  how  we  can  manage  it  if  you 
won't  think  it's  rude." 

"Nothing  that  you  do  can  be  rude." 

"Oh,  yes  it  can,  too.  I  do  lots  of  rude  things, 
gramper  says.  I  could  take  off  my  shoes  and  wade 
across  here,  and  you  could  jump  from  one  rock  to 
another  and  not  get  your  feet  wet.  Gramper  says 
that  when  he  was  a  boy  the  girls  used  to  go  bare 
footed  to  church  and  carry  their  shoes  and  sit  down 
on  a  log  just  before  getting  there  and  put  them 
on.  Do  you  know  I  have  a  notion  to  take  off  my 
shoes  and  wade  across  there?  I'd  just  like  to  do 
it.  It's  lovely  to  wade." 

"All  right,  go  ahead." 

"But  you'll  laugh  at  me." 

"No  I  won't." 

"And  you  won't  look  at  me  either?" 

"No,  I  won't  look  at  you," 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  213 

"Cross  your  heart  you  won't?" 

'.'Yes,  cross  my  heart  I  won't." 

"I'm  afraid  you  would,  but  how  I'd  like  to  wade 
across  there.  Wy,  there  couldn't  be  any  harm 
in  it,  could  there?  That  is  if  you  didn'4-  look  at 
me.  The  water  is  so  shallow." 

"Really  I  won't  look  at  you." 

"And  you  won't  tell  grams?  She'd  scold  me. 
She's  always  telling  me  that  I  haven't  any  dignity. 
But  dignity  all  the  time  is  so  awfully  tiresome. 
Now  I'm  going  to  sit  down  here  and  take  off  my 
shoes  and  wade  across;  and  you  must  look  away 
over  yonder.  Do  you  hear?" 

"Yes,  go  on;   I'm  looking  away  over  there." 

She  took  off  her  shoes,  and  with  many  a  cry  of 
excitement,  she  stepped  into  the  water.  He  did  not 
look  at  her,  and  yet  he  saw  her  pink  feet  in  the 
shining  stream.  When  she  reached  the  other 
shore,  she  ran  away  limping  over  the  gravel,  and 
sat  down  on  a  stone  to  put  on  her  shoes.  Hawley 
got  across,  he  knew  not  and  cared  not  how.  On 
ward  they  went,  swinging  the  basket.  Under  the 
bluff  the  water  was  deep,  but  the  fish  would  not 
bite.  Up  further  at  the  shelving  rock  they  must 


214  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

be  biting;  up  there  they  were  always  hungry. 
And  toward  the  shelving  rock  they  took  their  way. 

They  did  not  notice  that  in  the  west  the  sky  had 
grown  yellow;  they  had  paid  no  attention  to  the 
deeper  stillness  that  was  brooding  everywhere.  A 
frightened  cow,  ringing  her  bell  in  wild  alarm,  ran 
down  the  creek  on  the  other  side;  and  from  across 
a  narrow  field,  where  an  old  log  house  had  tumbled 
down,  came  the  distressing  bleat  of  a  sheep. 

"Hold  on,"  said  Hawley,  halting.  "We  are 
going  to  have  a  storm.  Why,  there's  a  cyclone 
coming!" 

"Is  there!"  she  cried,  dropping  her  side  of  the 
basket.  "It's  too  bad  to  take  the  lunch  home 
and  eat  it.  But  do  you  really  think  there's  going 
to  be  a  cyclone?"  she  asked,  taking  hold  of  the 
basket  again. 

"Yes.  Just  listen.  We  can't  get  home  in  time. 
How  much  further  is  that  shelving  rock?" 

"Right  up  there.  We  can  get  there  in  a  minute 
if  we  run.'' 

They  ran  to  the  rock,  a  low,  jutting  cliff,  almost 
a  cave.  They  ran  into  this  wild,  dreary  place,  and 
screaming  birds  flew  out  past  them.  The  storm 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  21$ 

came  raving  down  the  creek.  They  heard  the 
crashing  of  the  sycamore  trees,  and  sitting  on  a 
rock  they  could  see  sheets  of  water  ripped  from 
the  creek  and  thrown  high  in  the  air.  They  saw  a 
flock  of  sheep,  caught  up  and  tumbled  across  a 
field,  and  the  girl  cried  aloud  in  her  fright  and 
her  pity.  The  heaving  breast  of  this  tumult  was 
pierced  with  lightning  as  sharp  as  a  pain;  and 
thunder  shook  the  earth  as  though  hell  itself  had 
gagged,  heaved,  strained  and  burst  its  girth  to 
puke  its  fury  on  the  world.  With  startling  crash 
a  mighty  tree  fell  across  the  door-way  of  the  rock 
and  thrashed  the  ground  with  its  splitting  limbs. 
Another  blow  like  that  and  the  cavern  might  be 
closed  forever.  Fragments  of  rock  crumbled  off 
and  rattled  down  the  walls.  The  girl,  frightened, 
sobbing,  clung  to  this  strong  man  and  he  sat  with 
his  arms  about  her.  A  bird,  bruised  and  bleeding, 
fell  dead  at  their  feet,  and  closer  to  his  heart  he 
pressed  this  trembling  child.  "The  storm  is  not 
stronger  than  my  love  is  for  you,  sweet  angel,"  he 
said,  and  she  looked  at  him  quickly  with  tears  in 
her  eyes,  and  he  kissed  her.  Oh,  the  thrill  of  that 
kiss,  there  in  the  wild  roar;  oh,  the  heaven  of 


2l6  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

contentment,  rest,  peace  and  love  that  came  out  of 
the  storm. 

The  tempest  was  gone,  its  bellowings  were  far 
away.  Out  from  under  the  rock  they  came,  and 
hand  in  hand,  they  picked  their  way  through  the 
tangled  trees;  down  along  the  gravel  beds  they 
strolled,  toward  home.  They  saw  the  Judge, 
coming  to  look  for  them,  carrying  his  old  white 
hat  in  his  hand.  The  old  man  hastened  forward 
crying,  "Thank  God,  thank  God  you  are  safe!" 
They  came  up  to  him,  hand  in  hand,  and  when 
they  saw  that  the  old  man  noticed  it,  they  smiled 
at  him. 

He  stammered.  "Why,  why,  er — I  tell  you  we 
had  a  terrible  blow,  and  if  it  hadn't  kept  well  in 
the  path  of  the  creek,  I  don't  know  what  would 
have  become  of  us  all.  Ida,  your  grandmother — 
and  yours  too,  I  presume,  sir — " 

"Yes,  mine  too,"  said  Hawley;  "this  is,  I  hope 
so." 

"So  I  presume,  sir.  I  say  your  grandmother 
was  nearly  distressed  to  death  about  you,  and  I 
was  almost  crazy.  By  the  Eternal,  I  never  saw 
the  wind  blow  harder;  took  the  clothes-line  and 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

all  that  was  on  it  and  we  haven't  seen  it  since. 
I  declare,  I  never  saw  the  like."  There  were 
tears  in  the  old  man's  eyes.  He  talked  merely  to 
keep  from  saying  anything.  "Let  us  get  back  to 
the  house.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  such  a  storm; 
a  regular  cyclone — wind,  lightning  and  thun 
der  but  not  a  drop  of  rain.  Look  there  at  that 
tree,  twisted  and  pulled  up  like  a  weed,  and  it 
must  have  stood  there  for  a  thousand  years,  too. 
Hah,"  he  said,  looking  first  at  the  girl  and  then 
at  Hawley  as  they  walked  along,  "a  pretty  time  for 
lovers  to  come  to  an  understanding;  a  strange 
rapture  that  would  giggle  out  its  expression  in  a 
storm.  Look  at  you  there,  Ida,  tangling  yourself 
in  that  brush.  Never  saw  the  like  in  my  life.  Ah, 
a  cooing  day,  was  it?  Of  course  I  knew  that  some 
thing  of  the  sort  was  in  the '  wind,  but  by  the 
Eternal,  sir,  I  didn't  know  it  was  in  the  storm. 
My  wife  has  told  me  all  along  that  we  might 
expect  it,  but  women  are  so  quick  to  discover  such 
things  that  they  sometimes  see  them  before  they 
really  exist.  Come  over  this  way.  The  path 
down  yonder  is  all  covered  with  tree  tops." 

Thus  he   talked,  giving   them   a  chance   to  say 


2l8  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

scarcely  a  word;  and  they  were  willing  enough  that 
he  should  talk;  they  were  happy  in  their  silence. 
And  this  lack  of  form,  which  to  correct  and  con 
ventional  taste  might  have  seemed  rude  and  bar 
barous,  smote  not  their  senses.  They  knew  no 
form,  they  remembered  no  precedent,  they  cared 
for  no  rule  laid  down  for  the  conduct  of  lovers, 
had  thought  of  no  time-worn  speech  to  make  to 
the  old  man;  and  he,  forgetful  of  all  ceremony, 
was  in  unison  with  them.  But  when  they  reached 
the  house  they  found  that  it  was  not  so  with  Mrs. 
Trapnell.  She  had  expected  a  dignified  proposal, 
meditated  a  stately  acceptance.  At  a  glance  she 
saw  what  had  occurred,  but  pretending  not  to  have 
seen  it,  she  waited  for  the  young  man  to  make  his 
speech  to  her,  for  the  declaration  that  no  man  ever 
loved  as  he  did,  that  he  would  always  worship  the 
darling  creature,  and  that  he  humbly  begged  the 
grandmother's  consent  to  their  marriage.  But 
the  young  man  made  no  speech  and  the  girl  was 
shocking  enough  to  declare,  "Well,  if  we  didn't 
forget  the  lunch  basket."  Hereupon  the  Judge 
laughed  and  his  wife  snapped  her  eyes  at  him. 
"Madam,"  said  the  old  man,  "this  love-brewing 
that  you  have  been  telling  me  about — " 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2 19 

"Why,  Judge,"  she  broke  in,  "what  do  you 
mean?  I  have  told  you  nothing  of  the  sort.  I 
declare  you  embarrass  me  every  time  you  get  a 
chance." 

"There  is  no  cause  for  embarrassment,"  said 
Hawley.  "Ida  and  I  are  simply  in  love  with  each 
other  and  if  there  is  no  objection  we  are  going  to 
be  married." 

"Why,  Ida  Trapnell!"  exclaimed  her  grand 
mother. 

"What's  the  matter,  grams?" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?" 

"You  wouldn't  let  me;  you  were  all  the  time 
trying  to  tell  me." 

"Ida,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  I 
don't  believe  I  ever  said  a  word  that  could  have 
led  you  to  think  such  a  thing.  Mr.  Hawley,"  she 
added,  "I  don't  know  of  any  particular  objection, 
but  I  must  say  that  this  is  rather  a  peculiar  pro 
cedure.  Ida,  look  there  how  you've  torn  your 
dress.  I  had  thought,"  she  went  on,  speaking  to 
Hawley,  "that  if  you  had  serious  intentions  regard 
ing  our  granddaughter  that  you  would  have  said 
something  about  it  in  a  more  formal  way;  and  I 


22O  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

do  believe  that  the  Judge   is  to   blame   for  it  all." 

"By  the  Eternal,  rnadam,  why  do  you  persist  in 
jumping  on  me?  You  talk  as  if  some  harm  had 
been  done,  as  though  some  vital  rule  had  been 
violated.  You  are  committing  the  only  violation 
that  I  have  seen.  If  they  love  each  other,  all  right. 
Mr.  Hawley  is  a  gentleman;  it  is  our  place  to 
step  aside." 

"Oh,  I  hadn't  thought  of  interposing  any  objec 
tions,  Judge,  but  I  do  think  — 

"Oh,  yes,  you  think  that  all  sorts  of  unnecessary 
palaver  should  be  gone  through  with;  that's  what 
you  think.  I  found  them  walking  hand  in  hand 
and  that  was  enough  for  me.  Hawley,  take  a  text 
from  some  old  romance,  get  up  there  and  preach 
her  a  sermon." 

"Judge,  I  do  think  you  can  be  the  most  aggra 
vating  man  I  ever  saw.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  I 
had  no  objections'?  Now  what  more  do  you  want  ? 
Well,  it's  all  for  the  best  I  suppose.  Mr.  Hawley, 
Ida  is  nothing  but  a  child  yet.  I  have  tried  to  teach 
her  to  be  a  woman,  and  the  Lord  knows  that  I 
have  done  my  best  by  her.  I  have  watched  over 
her  and  loved  her—"  Here  she  broke  down,  and 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  221 

catching  Ida  in  her  arms  wept  upon  her  shoulder. 

"She's  all  right  now,"  the  Judge  said  to  Hawley. 
"She  wanted  this  opportunity  at  first  and  was  put 
to  the  trouble  of  making  it  herself.  Just  let  her 
alone;  it's  not  sorrow,  it's  happiness.  She  does 
love  the  child,  although  they  are  no  kin,  and  it  is 
a  joy  to  know  that  she  is  to  be  well  settled  in  life. 
Come  Mandy,"  he  said,  and  gently  taking  her  hand, 
he  led  her  from  the  room. 

The  contentment,  the  sweetness  of  that  evening 
after  the  storm.  Scents  torn  from  wild  flowers  and 
bruised  from  the  sappy  timber  were  left  floating  in 
the  air.  How  could  there  be  starvation,  misery  in 
the  world  when  all  within  the  fond  sight  of  this 
man  and  this  maturing  woman  was  so  soft,  so  gentle 
and  so  warmed  by  the  ardent  blood  of  love.  "It 
was  hard  to  stay  away  from  you,"  she  said,  "but  I 
had  to — had  to  go  away  until  I  could  get  better 
control  of  myself.  It  was  not  right  that  I  should 
give  you  the  slightest  intimation  of  my  feelings 
toward  you,  and  when  I  felt  that  I  had  done  so,  I 
suffered  for  it.  In  the  eye  of  the  world  we  were 
not  upon  equal  footing.  I  was  poor — " 

"Don't  talk  that  way,"  he  pleaded. 


222  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Oh,  yes,  I  must;  not  that  I  feel  that  money 
could  have  made  any  difference  in  my  love  for 
you—" 

"But,  precious,  it  could  not  have  made  any 
difference  in  my  love  for  you." 

"Oh,  no,"  she  said  with  the  sweet  confidence  of 
youth,  with  the  perfect  loyalty  of  a  young  heart, 
"but  we  have  to  pay  some  attention  to  what  peo 
ple  think,  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  have  any  one 
believe  that  I  was  trying — trying—  He  stopped 
her  mouth  with  a  kiss.  "You  must  never  talk  that 
way  again,"  he  said.  "The  advantage  was  not  on 
my  side  but  on  yours.  I  am  much  older  than 
you — " 

"Now  you  shan't  talk  that  way,  either.  You 
can't  be  old  when  you  look  so  young.  Why 
when  I  first  heard  them  talk  about  your  coming 
here,  I  thought  you  must  be  awfully  grand  and 
severe,  but  when  I  saw  you  I  thought  you  a  mere 
boy,  but  a  great  big  boy,  mind  you." 

"And  this  great,  big  old  boy — 

"Now,  I  didn't  say  old." 

"I  know,  but  this  great,  big,  old  boy  and  this 
charming  girl  will  live  together  in  a  happiness  that 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  22^ 

will  be  almost  a  new  discovery.  We  will  live  here 
until  we  get  tired  and  then  we  will  go  to  Chicago 
and  stay  there  as  long  as  we  want  to." 

"Won't  that  be  delightful!  But  you  mustn't  say 
that  we'll  stay  here  until  we  get  tired,  for  we  must 
never  be  tired  as  long  as  we  are  with  each  other." 

"No,  that's  true,  we  mustn't;  but  we'll  live 
first  in  one  place  and  then  in  another  just  as  the 
humor  strikes  us." 

"Yes,  and  we'll  fix  up  the  old  house — shall  we, 
or  would  you  rather  have  it  as  it  is?" 

"It  shall  be  just  as  you  say." 

"No,"  she  insisted,  "it  must  be  as  you  say;  and 
we  won't  see  anybody  suffer  for  anything,  will  we? 
For  look  how  kind  God  has  been  taus.  And  when 
winter  comes  again  we'll  put  those  poor  people 
down  the  creek  into  a  better  house,  and  have  wood 
hauled  to  them  so  the  little  children  won't  get 
cold." 

"You  are  a  heavenly  creature,"  he  said,  pressing 
her  to.him.  "Oh,  that  this  tender  heart  of  yours 
may  never  be  wrung  with  sorrow.  Yes,  precious, 
we  will  make  use  of  the  means  that  have  been  given 
us.  I  thank  God  that  you  have  had  that  thought. 


224  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

No  one  within  our  reach  shall  go  cold  and  hungry. 
The  foot-step  of  an  angel — this  angel — shall  be 
heard  at  the  doorway  of  the  lowly  and  the  suffer 
ing.  God  bless  you;  you  pour  a  holy  religion 
into  my  soul,  a  soul  that  was  dry  and  harsh." 

Oh,  the  glory,  the  God-presence  of  that  night; 
oh,  the  dreamful  sleep  of  love — and  the  morning 
came  as  a  new  inspiration  from  the  mind  of 
Almighty  nature. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Hawley  was  ,31111  dreaming  when  Aunt  Lily's 
voice  aroused  him;  and  the  dream  was  so  close  to 
the  truth  that  its  thrill  and  its  joy  were  not  by  this 
awakening  scared  back  to  sleepland,  but  remained 
with  him,  stood  the  test  of  sunlight.  The  old 
woman  ducked  her  head  and  laughed  when  he  went 
into  the  dining-room,  but  in  her  laugh,  coarse, 
black  creature  that  she  was,  rippled  a  sympathetic 
melody.  It  was  not  an  expression  of  mirth,  for 
the  soul  of  mirth  is  a  sly  mischief;  it  was  heart 
felt  congratulation.  She  told  Hawley  not  to  say 
a  word,  that  she  knew  all  about  it.  She  had  seen 
Sister  Milly  that  morning  and  nobody  ever  tried  to 
keep  anything  from  Sister  Milly  for  such  an  attempt 
was  useless.  But  even  Sister  Milly  needed  not 
have  told  her;  she  could  see  for  herself.  There 
never  was  a  tenderer  hearted  child  than  Miss  Ida, 
and  the  Lord  was  not  going  to  forget  her,  either. 

Tennessee  Judge  15 

225 


226  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

Lily  was  old,  she  admitted,  but  she  knew  what 
love  was.  Why,  she  used  to  love  that  good-for- 
nothing  Ben.  She  loved  him  yet,  for  that  matter, 
but  she  was  not  going  to  tell  him,  he  was  so  trifling 
and  no  account.  She  was  glad  that  the  child  was 
going  to  get  so  good  a  husband,  and  Miss  Mandy 
was  tickled,  but  of  course  she  would  not  "let  on." 
Miss  Mandy  always  was  a  curious  woman,  fussy 
and  scolding,  but  after  all  she  was  good  hearted. 

The  old  Professor  was  in  the  library  waiting  for 
Hawley.  He  had  been  up  rhe  creek  to  find  out 
what  harm  the  storm  had  done  and  was  surprised 
that  no  one  had  been  killed.  He  looked  at  Hawley 
and  smiled.  "You  appear  wonderfully  well  this 
morning,  sir;  and  I  know  the  cause.  Dr.  Moffet 
tells  me  that  you  and  Miss  Ida  Trapnell  are  to  be 
married  soon." 

"Dr.  Moffet  told  you  so?  I  don't  know  why 
the  doctor  should  be  so  well  acquainted  with  rny 
affairs." 

"A  gossiping  doctor,  sir,  knows  all  about  every 
body's  affairs.  But  there's  no  harm  done.  Every 
man  should  know  himself,  and  I  wish  you  happi 
ness,  but  let  me  say  that  if  I  were  to  find  myself  in 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  22/ 

love  with  a  woman  I  would  flee  from  her  as  from 
a  pestilence,  and  the  more  I  loved  her,  the  faster 
I  would  flee.  Wait."  He  held  up  his  hand.  "I 
lived  with  my  brother  a  number  of  years  and  I 
know  what  marriage  is.  It  is  a  life  amid  the 
howlings  and  squallings  of  young  children  and 
the  neglect  and  insults  of  older  ones.  The  more 
you  love  your  wife  the  worse  it  is,  for  then  you  are 
a  slave,  your  very  thoughts  are  enchained — you 
are  a  fly  in  a  jelly  glass.  I  don't  wish  to  discour 
age  you,  sir;  and  by  the  way,  I  don't  think  it  is  a 
subject  for  laughter,  either.  Great  universities 
are  not  founded  by  men  too  much  in  love  with  one 
woman ;  humanity  must  be  your  bride  and  advance 
ment  your  best  man." 

"Don't  worry,  Professor;  the  university  is  all 
right." 

"I  hope  so,  and  yet  this  contemplated  marriage 
frightens  me.  Why,  that  fair  creature,  like  her 
grandmother,  might  threaten  to  scald  me." 

"No  danger  of  that.  Ida  is  as  gentle  as  an 
angel." 

"That  may  be,  and  angels  might  threaten  to 
scald.  We  never  know  at  one  moment  how  a 


228  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

woman  is  going  to  break  out  the  next.  Oh,  some 
of  them  are  beautiful  and  lovely,  I  admit  that; 
but  I  would  run  from  marriage  like  a  dog  running 
from  a  nest  of  bumble  bees.  A  man  prides  himself 
upon  being  free;  then  why  surrender  his  freedom? 
He  knows  that  marriage  is  slavery;  he  can't  help 
but  see  it,  and  yet  his  eye-sight  teaches  him  noth 
ing.  The  poor  man  by  merely  looking  round  can 
see  that  marriage  has  made  a  work-horse  of  his 
friend,  and  yet  like  a  fool  he  marries  his  friend's 
daughter.  It's  not  so  bad  with  the  rich  man,  for 
he  can  get  away  from  it  occasionally;  he  can  hire 
people  to  share  his  trouble.  And  look  at  woman. 
Marriage  is  her  death.  Three  children  and  then 
where  is  her  laughter?  It  has  turned  to  scolding. 
She  can't  help  it;  "her  misery  must  express  itself. 
How  I  did  pity  that  fool  brother  of  mine;  and 
when  I  had  stood  it  as  long  as  I  could,  I  packed 
up  my  traps  and  out  I  put.  Do  you  suppose  that 
his  wife  cared  for  moral  philosophy?  Why,  hang 
her,  she  said  that  I  was  crazy  and  mind  you,  she 
persuaded  her  husband  to  have  them  overtake  me 
and  clap  me  into  an  asylum.  Marriage  did  that. 
If  my  brother  hadn't  been  married  he  would  have 
had  more  sense." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  22Q 

"But  marriage  shall  not  interfere  with  any  of  our 
plans,  Professor."  He  could  not  let  him  down 
now;  the  delusion  must  be  kept  up. 

"Mr.  Hawley,  I  am  grateful  to  you,  sir.  You 
may  be  the  one  man  superior  to  the  troubles  of 
such  an  entanglement;  I  hope  you  are.  But  I  tell 
you  that  I  was  really  frightened  when  I  heard  that 
you  were  going  to  give  up  this  life  of  easy  inde 
pendence.  Philosophy  does  not  enter  the  married 
state;  philosophy  has  its  eye  upon  the  broad  field 
of  mankind  and  not  upon  a  mere  truck-patch  of 
children.  Animals  mate,  but  science  is  above  nar 
row  selection;  the  beast  evinces  an  affection  which 
after  all  is  but  a  carnal  selfishness,  but  supreme 
intelligence  stands  alone.  I  hope  I  have  not  dis 
couraged  you,  sir." 

"What's  that?" 

"Well  by  the  flint-hoofs  of  the  devil,  the  man 
hasn't  listened  to  me!  What,  already  robbed  of 
understanding?  Mr.  Hawley,  my  fears  are  com 
ing  up  again,  sir." 

"Drive  them  down,  Professor." 

"I  will,  sir;  I  will  hit  them  on  the  head  and 
drive  them  down  like  nails.  Well,  I  must  go." 


230  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

He  took  up  his  hat  and  his  cudgel  and  strode  out, 
but  suddenly  he  stopped  when  near  the  yard  gate, 
wheeled  about  and  came  back  to  the  door.  "Mr. 
Hawley,  are  you  sure  she  won't  threaten  to  scald 
me?" 

"Yes,  I  am  quite  sure." 

"I  hope  that  I  may  in  time  be  able  to  share 
your  confidence  sir,  but  at  present  I  am  uneasy. 
I  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  desolate  than  a 
philosophy  drenched  with  hot  water.  But  I  won't 
draw  pictures  to  illustrate  my  fear;  they  frighten 
me.  I  will  shut  my  eyes  and  place  my  faith  in  you. 
By  the  way  I  am  progressing  well  with  my  medita 
tions;  I  shall  soon  be  ready." 

Hawley  strolled  about  the  farm,  through  the 
woods-lot,  down  the  branch,  over  the  stubble 
where  the  black  birds  followed  the  plough.  Pres 
ently  he  heard  Aunt  Lily's  voice,  calling  him,  and 
returning  to  the  house  he  found  John  Roark  and 
the  widow  Binson,  seated  in  the  library,  making 
themselves  at  home.  And  he  could  have  wished 
them  further  away  than  home,  further  than  any 
Christian's  home.  Roark  said  that  he  was  going 
to  town  for  a  very  short  time,  and  that  his  sister 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  231 

would  wait,  if  Hawley  had  no  objection,  until  he 
returned,  when  they  were  both  to  start  on  a  journey 
down  the  creek.  Hawley  muttered  an  acquiescent 
lie,  and  the  widow,  smiling,  smirking,  making  dis 
agreeable  noises  with  her  lips,  said  that  her  re 
maining  there  until  her  brother  returned  might  not 
suit  the  notions  of  society,  but  that  she  paid  no 
attention  to  shallow  customs.  Roark  laughed,  the 
sneeze  of  a  steer,  and  took  his  leave;  the  sister 
smoothed  her  skirts  and  rocked  herself. 

"Terrible  storm  we  had  yesterday,"  she  said. 

"Yes." 

"Hadn't  been  so  narrow  it  would  have  done  a 
great  deal  of  harm." 

"Yes." 

"Such  storms  are  not  common  in  this  country." 

"No." 

"Mr.  Hawley  will  you  excuse  me  if  I  make  an 
observation?  You  know  I'm  something  of  a  priv- 
leiged  character.  What  arn  I  talking  about  ?  Of 
course  you'll  excuse  me.  You  are  a  sensible  man. 
Well,  for  some  time  I  have  been  intending  to  say 
this  to  you,  but  never  had  the  chance,  not  that 
any  one's  overhearing  it  would  make  any  particular 


232  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

difference,  but  because — well,  you  know  how  such 
things  are.  What  I  wanted  to  say  is  this:  You 
ought  not  to  live  here  alone;  you  ought  to  have 
some  one  to  take  care  of  your  house,  to  look  after 
things  in  general.  And  pardon  me,  but  you  don't 
want  a  young  and  inexperienced  thing;  but  a 
woman.  Life  is  not  a  mere  holiday,  Mr.  Hawley; 
it  is  as  real  as  the  earth  itself.  And  while  there 
may  be  a  momentary  pleasure  in  romance,  yet  it  is 
our  duty  to  be  practical  so  that  we  may  face  trouble 
when  it  comes,  and  it  will  come.  Now  why  don't 
you  select  some  good,  thorough-going,  practical 
woman  to  share  your  home  with  you?  Pardon  me 
if  I  am  too  bold,  but  why  don't  you?" 

During  this  flow  of  words  Hawley  walked  about 
the  room,  sometimes  looking  in  astonishment  at 
the  woman,  sometimes  gazing  out  over  the  fields; 
and  when  she  again  smoothed  her  skirts  as  an 
evidence  that  her  say  had  been  said,  he  sat  down, 
sharply  eyed  her  for  a  moment,  and  remarked: 
"Madam,  in  your  turn  you  will  please  pardon  me. 
The  old  saying  that  every  man  should  attend  to 
his  own  business,  does  not  apply  alone  to  man, 
but  reaches  woman  as  well." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  233 

"Oh,  now,  Mr.  Hawley,  don't  try  to  get  out  of  it 
that  way.  You  know  that  it  is  your  duty  to  your 
self  and  to  society — " 

"I  thought  you  cared  nothing  for  society." 

"Oh,  I  don't  as  a  general  thing,  but  there  are 
times  when  we  must  pay  some  little  attention  to 
it;  and  this  is  one  of  them." 

"This  is  not  one  of  the  times  when  I  pay  atten 
tion  to  it.  And  I  must  again  ask  you  to  pardon 
me,  but  I  don't  need  any  advice." 

"There  are  times  when  we  all  need  advice,"  she 
said. 

"And  there  are  also  times  when  we  won't  take 
it,"  he  replied. 

"Oh,  if  you  say  you  won't  I  suppose  you  won't; 
but  I  think  that  I  am  talking  to  you  for  your  own 
good.  You  know  we  have  all  become  attached  to 
you.  But  there's  one  phase  that  you  must  consider." 

"What's  that?" 

"Scandal." 

"Scandal!     I  don't  undertsand  you." 

"Now  you  are  a  sensible,  a  very  sensible  man 
and  surely  can't  be  blind  to  the  fact  that  talk  may 
arise — it  has  arisen." 


234  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"I  still  don't  understand  you." 

"You  have  a  housekeeper." 

He  made  no  reply  to  this  but  looked  at  his 
watch.  "How  long  do  you  think  your  brother  will 
be  gone  ?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  that  needn't  concern  you.     I  can  go  now." 

"If  you  please." 

She  stood  in  the  door  and  looked  at  him  from 
head  to  foot,  slowly  moving  her  eyes.  "You  have 
ordered  me  out  of  your  house,"  she  said. 

"I  haven't  invited  you  to  remain  in  it." 

"But  you  may  wish  you  had.  My  brother  will 
see  you,  sir." 

"Only  for  a  short  time,  I  hope." 

"Long  enough  for  you." 

"A  minute,  eh?" 

"You  may  think  it  an  eternity." 

"Good-bye." 

She  was  gone.  Hawley  walked  up  and  down 
the  room,  frowning  at  the  chair  in  which  she  had 
sat,  scowling  at  the  door  in  which  she  had  stood. 
Why  had  this  harsh-winged  bug  buzzed  its  way 
into  his  repose,  poisoning  the  soft  air  with  a  foul 
odor?  He  stood  at  the  window,  looking  toward 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  235 

town,  hoping  to  see  Roark  coming  back.  He  saw 
the  woman  walking  toward  the  turn-pike.  He  went 
out  into  the  yard,  and  still  restless,  walked  up  and 
down  the  path  between  the  house  and  the  gate. 
His  shoe-heels  cut  gashes  in  the  hard  walk-way. 
Old  Lily  called  him  to  dinner;  he  wanted  no 
dinner.  He  stood  upon  the  fence,  holding  the  limb 
of  a  tree  to  steady  himself,  looking  toward  the 
turn-pike.  He  saw  a  man  walking  along.  The 
woman  stopped  him.  They  stood  for  a  moment 
and  then  walked  on  together,  but  not  in  the  fields 
toward  the  house.  He  watched  them  until  a  dip 
in  the  road  hid  them  from  view.  He  went  into 
the  house  and  sought  to  calm  himself  with  writing 
to  Dr.  Ford,  but  the  pen  spluttered  and  the  ink 
would  not  flow.  He  crumpled  the  paper,  threw  it 
on  the  floor  and  went  out  again.  Nearly  an  hour 
passed  and  his  hot  blood  had  begun  to  cool.  He 
returned  to  the  library  and  was  writing  when 
some  one  spoke  to  him.  He  looked  up  and  saw 
Lige  Crump  standing  in  the  door. 

"Come  in." 

"I've  come  on  pressing  business  and  haven't  got 
but  a  minute  to  stay,"  he  said,  stepping  inside. 


236  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

• 

"Sit  down." 

"No,  I  thank  you."  He  stood  silent,  solemn 
and  then  he  added:  "I've  just  come  from  John 
Roark.  He  says  you  insulted  his  sister." 

"He's  a  liar.     She  insulted  me." 

"But  now,  here,  Cap'n,  you  don't  want  any 
quarrel  with  a  woman." 

"No,  and  not  with  a  man  either.  I  don't  quarrel. 
But  why  didn't  Roark  come  himself?" 

"Because  he  preferred  to  send  me." 

"Well,  you  go  back  and  tell  him  to  come." 

"I  will  after  I  have  got  through  with  my  business 
with  you.  He  wants  an  apology." 

"He'll  not  get  it." 

"Then,  sir,  that  makes  it  necessary  for  us  to  go 
through  with  a  little  preamble.  John  Roark  is  a 
gentleman." 

"He  is  not;  he  is  a  bully  and  a  liar.  Get  out  of 
this  house!" 

"What,   you  order  me  out?" 

"Yes,  and  if  you  don't  get  out  I'll  kick  you  out. 
Get  out  this  minute,  and  tell  that  scoundrel  if  I 
ever  catch  him  on  this  place  again  I'll  thrash  him 
within  an  inch  of  his  life.  Did  you  hear  what  I 
said?" 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  237 

"I  will  take  him  your  message,  but  I  don't  like 
the  way  you  talk." 

"I  don't  care  what  you  like.  You  are  an  infernal 
coward  and  the  agent  of  an  infernal  coward!  Are 
you  going?" 

Hawley  sprang  from  his  chair.  Crump  stepped 
outside.  Hawley  sat  down  and  took  up  his  pen.  But 
a  moment  later  he  looked  out  and  saw  Crump  going 
through  the  woods-lot,  shaking  his  fist  in  the  air. 
He  turned  again  to  his  writing,  but  too  wrought 
up  to  express  himself  in  pliant  terms,  he  shoved 
himself  back  and  sat  musing.  A  foot-step.  Had 
that  scoundrel  returned?  He  got  up.  The  Judge 
was  at  the  door. 

"Come  in,  you  are  the  very  man  I  want  to 
see." 

"I  couldn't  ask  for  a  pleasanter  welcome  than 
that,  my  dear  boy.  But  what's  gone  wrong?"  the 
old  man  asked,  sitting  down  and  gazing  with  sharp 
eyes  at  Hawley.  "Why,  I  gad,  sir,  you  look  as  if 
you  want  to  fight  somebody." 

Hawley  told  him  of  the  visit  of  Roark  and  the 
widow;  of  Roark's  request  that  his  sister  might 
remain  until  he  should  return  from  town;  minutely 


238  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

related  the  conversation  that  had  taken  place  be 
tween  himself  and  the  woman;  told  of  the  call  he 
had  received  from  Lige  Crump.  The  old  man 
could  not  sit  still;  hard  wrinkles  shifted  about  on 
his  face;  he  winked  as  if  he  had  pepper  in  his 
eyes. 

"Infamous  scoundrel!"  he  exclaimed,  "out-crop 
ping  of  a  trundle-bed!  Why  didn't  you  cut  his 
throat.  Gentleman !  Merciful  God,  what  has  the 
country  come  to.  And  he  came  with  a  challenge 
from  this  gentleman.  Now  you  know  what  we 
mean  by  white  trash.  By  the  Eternal,  he  ought 
to  be  ham-strung  for  his  presumption.  Fight  a 
duel  with  that  beef!  And  the  challenge  was 
brought  by  that  lank  wretch  that  we  have  all 
tolerated  so  long.  I  have  felt  sorry  for  him  because 
I  thought  he  was  trying  to  be  some  body,  and 
morever  I  supposed  that  he  knew  how  to  keep  his 
place,  but  I  might  have  known  better.  You  re 
member  one  day  when  he  had  filled  my  house  with 
his  dogs  he  said  that  his  daughter  was  thinking 
of  coming  over  to  see  Ida.  That  stuck  me  to  the 
quick,  and  I  ought  to  have  let  out  on  him  right 
there,  but  I  restrained  myself.  What,  a  member 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  239 

of  his  family  come  to  my  house  on  terms  of 
equality?  Gad,  sir,  you  ought  to  have  cut  his 
throat.  No,  that  wouldn't  have  been  right.  It 
would  have  soiled  your  floor  and  put  you  to  trouble 
afterwards,  but  you  ought  to  have  called  some 
body  from  the  stable  and  had  him  thrown  out  with 
a  fork.  Thrash  him  if  you  ever  catch  him  on  the 
place  again.  Yes,  tramp  him  into  the  earth.  You 
see  now  why  our  democracy  was  not  so  broad  here 
as  it  was  in  the  north.  People  of  blood  had  to 
hold  themselves  aloof  from  common  stock.  The 
slightest  encouragement  was  presumed  upon.  I 
remember  hearing  it  told  that  an  ignorant  lout 
walked  into  my  father's  dining-room  with  his  coat 
off  simply  because  the  old  gentleman,  on  several 
occasions,  had  said,  'good  morning,  sir.'  It  simply 
won't  do  to  mix  with  them,  that's  all.  If  you 
make  an  equal  of  a  man  who  is  not  your  equal  he 
is  sure,  sooner  or  later,  to  insult  you.  But  let  us 
not  talk  about  such  disagreeable  things.  Ida  tells 
me  that  you  speak  of  going  to  Chicago  for  a  few 
days." 

"Yes,  and  I  am  just  writing  to  Dr.  Ford,  to  tell 
him  when  to  expect  me." 


240  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Do  you  know,  sir,  that  I  have  half  a  mind  to 
go  with  you?" 

"I  wish  you  would,  Judge." 

"Well,  sir,  I  don't  see  what's  to  prevent  it.  I 
have  never  been  in  the  North,  have  never  wanted 
to  go  until  now.  Let  me  see.  I'll  have  a  little 
business  in  court  about  two  weeks  from  now." 

"But  we'll  be  back  in  time." 

"I  will  go  with  you,  sir." 

With  a  Chicago  man's  ardor,  Hawley  stimulated 
the  Judge's  curiosity;  told  him  of  the  tall  build 
ings,  the  tallest  in  the  world;  of  the  trade  estab 
lishments,  the  largest  in  the  world;  of  the  fire 
department,  the  best  in  the  world;  of  the  increase 
in  population,  the  most  wonderful  in  the  world;  of 
the  thronged  streets,  intense  life,  parks,  boulevards. 
And  thus  the  old  man's  going  was  placed  beyond 
all  question.  He  listened  as  a  child  might  listen 
to  the  story  of  the  vine  that  came  up  in  a  night 
and  spread  its  broad  shade  at  morning;  and  he 
shook  his  head,  not  in  doubt,  but  in  wonder  at 
these  man-wrought  miracles.  The  story  was  not 
new  to  him,  but  it  was  the  first  time  that  he  had 
heard  it  without  prejudice.  Chicago  had  been  the 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  24! 

abode  of  men  who  sneered  at  the  slowness  of  his 
community  and  applied  the  term  of  sloth  to  its 
easy  life,  its  respectability.  But  now  he  felt  that 
this  monstrous  town,  grasping,  grinding,  wkh  a 
maw  always  eager  for  more  than  could  be  crammed 
into  it,  had  suddenly  brought  forward  a  kinsman's 
claim  upon  him. 

Hawley  talked  of  the  changes  he  intended  to 
make  in  the  house;  of  new  furniture,  rich  hangings, 
deep  carpets;  decorators  should  come  from 
Chicago  and  touch  the  walls  with  soft  tints,  but 
the  light  of  it  all  should  be  a  portrait  of  his  wife, 
done  by  some  famous  painter. 

"That's  all  very  fine,"  said  the  old  man,  "and  it 
gladdens  me  to  see  you  so  delighted  with  the  pros 
pect,  but  don't  forget  to  thrash  those  scoundrels  if 
you  ever  catch  them  on  this  farm  again." 

"I  won't  forget  that,  Judge;  it  would  probably 
be  better  if  I  could.  But  it  is  unfortunate  that  such 
a  thing  should  come  up  just  at  this  time,  when  I 
saw  so  much  brightness  in  the  narrow  scope  of  my 
own  vision  that  I  thought  the  whole  world  had  sud 
denly  become  happy." 

"Yes,  that's  true,    sir,  but    we   shouldn't   allow 

Tennessee  Judge  16 


242  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

ourselves  to  be  run  over  simply  because  we  arc 
happy.  As  for  me,  I  am  afraid  of  happiness;  it 
always  comes  just  a  little  in  advance  of  a  disap 
pointment.  One  of  the  happiest  moments  in  my 
life  was  out  yonder  under  those  oak  trees.  It  was 
my  ambition  to  be  the  supreme  judge  of  this  state, 
and  my  friends,  able  and  strong  men,  came  to  me 
of  their  own  accord  and  told  me  that  I  was  their 
choice.  They  were  powerful  enough  to  swing  the 
convention,  but  at  the  eleventh  hour,  when  the 
convention  which  met  at  Nashville  was  about  to 
declare  in  my  favor,  the  head  of  a  Judas  popped 
up.  His  treachery  turned  the  tide—  turned  me  out 
of  that  hall  a  crushed  and  sorrowed  man.  And 
ever  since  then  I  have  been  afraid  of  happiness, 
of  apparent  victory,  for  I  feel  that  a  mischief  and 
a  bitterness-  lurk  behind  it.  But  my  time  is  com 
ing,  just  as  sure  as  you're  sitting  there  it  is  coming. 
The  devil  brings  defeat,  but  God  brings  the  time 
when  we  can  fill  our  souls  with  a  just  vengeance. 
Preachers  have  talked  to  me  about  forgiveness. 
Justice  never  forgives;  it  doesn't  know  how." 

"Yes,  but  pity  forgives,"  Hawley  replied. 

"Ah,  I  grant  you,  but  if  pity  ruled,  there' d   be 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  243 

no  justice.  Mind  you,  sir,  that  I  am  not  now 
speaking  of  slight  offenses,  but  of  the  basest 
treachery.  A  man  might  cheat  me  in  a  horse 
trade,  and  I  could  forgive  him;  he  might  lie  about 
me,  seeking  to  injure  my  name,  and  I  could  forget 
it,  but  when  he  professes  to  be  my  friend  and  then 
sells  my  ambition  as  if  it  were  a  rag — well,  we 
won't  talk  about  it." 

"And  above  all,"  said  Hawley,  "let  us  not  think 
about  it.  I  believe  that  it  is  our  duty  to  be 
happy— 

"The  voice  of  youth,"  the  old  man  broke  in. 
"Youth  says,  'come  and  be  happy  with  me;'  old 
age  gravely  shakes  its  head  and  replies,  'wait  and 
be  miserable  with  me.'  And  there  we  are;  one 
running  forward  toward  an  object>  the  other  looking 
back  at  a. shadow.  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  no  young 
man  in  this  state  had  better  prospects  than  I. 
Carefully  educated,  fond  of  reading,  quick  to  see 
a  point  in  law,  given  to  reason  and  to  convincing 
argument;  but  practically  it  all  came  to  nothing." 

"How  can  you  say  that,  Judge.  You  have  had 
your  victories  in  the  court-house,  you  have  won 
esteem;  and  you  have  been  buoyed  on  the  rosy 
surge  of  love's  emotion — " 


244  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Hold  on,  now,  sir;  hold  on.  Remember  that 
my  legs  are  old  and  that  I  can't  trot  after  you  as 
you  gallop  about  with  your  camel's  hair  brush  and 
pot  of  paint,  touching  everything  with  a  pink  hue 
Yes,  I  have  loved,  loved  with  jealous  fierceness, 
with  no  cooing  song  but  with  the  cry  of  the  panther 
at  night.  The  girl  had  seemed  to  love  another 
man.  And  who  was  he?  That  same  Gordon  P. 
Hensley.  But  I  married  her  and  he  came  to 
me  and  said  he  knew  she  could  never  love  him; 
he  swore  that  he  would  be  my  friend  for  life.  But 
he  carried  his  dagger  year  after  year,  and  when 
the  time  came  he  drove  it  into  me;  and  year  after 
year  has  passed  since  then,  but  a  time  is  coming 
when  my  wrath,  my  justice  will  strike  him,  not 
with  a  treachery,  but  with  death.  But  I  won't 
talk  about  him." 

"You  say  that  you  have  loved,"  Hawley  remarked 
after  a  short  silence. 

"Yes,  when  I  was  young;  and  it  was  a  love  that 
would  look  wild  and  ghastly  under  the  material 
istic  light  of  these  glaring  days." 

"But  can't  an  old  man  love?" 

"He  can  worship  a  child    but    he    can't    love    a 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  245 

woman.  He  may  have  a  foolish  fondness  for  her 
and  may  snivel  if  she's  out  of  his  sight,  but  noble 
love  belongs  to  the  young.  It  may  endure  through 
life,  but  when  broken,  the  soul  has  had  its  career 
and  loves  not  again.  It  must  be  going  to  rain," 
he  added.  "My  old  bones  ache.  Is  that  Willis 
coming-in  there  at  the  gate?" 

"Yes,"  Hawley  answered,  looking  out.  "Co,me 
in  Willis." 

Mr.  Willis  came  in,  cut  his  gestured  greeting  in 
two,  giving  one  bow  to  Hawley  and  the  other  to 
the  Judge,  and  threw  in  a  few  scollops  to  make 
good  his  heaping  measure  of  politeness.  He  was 
delighted  to  see  them  looking  so  well,  and  was 
pleased  to  say  that  he  had  never  felt  better  in  his 
life. 

"Willis,"  said  Hawley,  "I  noticed  two  or  three 
wagon  loads  of  horse  heads,  shank  bones  and  hoofs 
piled  up  in  a  corner  over  at  the  north  edge  of  the 
clover  field;  and  one  of  the  men  told  me  that  you 
had  them  hauled  from  a  bone-yard  somewhere  and 
put  there.  What  are  they  for?" 

"My  dear  sir,  I  will  explain,  since  my  call  this 
morning  is  directly  in  that  line.  Asparagus,  as 


246  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

pure,  as  pearly  and  as  pink  as  it  looks  in  its  com 
bination  of  tints,  draws  its  best  sustenanc  from 
decaying  animal  life,  or  body,  or  bone,  I  should 
say.  And  these  heaped  up  evidences  of  mortality 
that  you  have  observed,  are  to  form  the  basis  of 
an  asparagus  bed,  some  eighteen  feet  broad  and 
thirty  feet  long.  It  will  be  dug  out  four  feet  deep; 
the  bones  shall  go  at  the  bottom  and  then  placed 
upon  them  there  shall  be  a  thick  strata  of  richest 
fertilizer.  We'll  not  be  able  to  realize  on  our  in 
vestment  this  year,  but  next  year — "  He  shaded 
his  eyes  with  his  hand.  "The  sight  as  it  comes 
up  in  my  mind,  dazzles  me.  From  one  end  of 
the  country  to  the  other  we  will  be  referred  to  as 
authorities  on  asparagus."  He  coughed.  "I  have 
stretched  my  credit  somewhat,  and  now  I  must 
have  about  two  hundred  dollars  to  complete  the 
work  so  happily  begun." 

"Willis,"  said  Hawley,  "I  don't  want  to  go  into 
the  asparagus  business;  I  don't  eat  it,  and  I 
wouldn't  give  two  hundred  dollars  for  ten  acres  of 
it.  I  told  you  that  you  might  have  all  the  land 
you  wanted,  but  1  didn't  tell  you  that  I  wanted  the 
farm  underpinned  with  bones  and  studded  with 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  247 

horse-hoofs.  I  don't  want  any  asparagus.  I'm  not 
a  market  gardener." 

Willis  had  let  his  hat  to  fall  to  the  floor.  He 
took  it  up,  dented  the  top  of  it,  placed  it  on  his 
head  and  with  heavy  feet  slowly  strode  toward  the 
door. 

"I  will  pay  the  bills  thus  far,  Willis,  but  I  don't 
want  any  more  hoofs." 

Willis  turned  about.  His  face  was  a  chart  of 
sorrow  and  distress. 

"And  yet  they  insist  that  there  is  a  God,"  said 
he.  "Gentlemen,  I  will  bid  you  good-bye.  In 
some  of  the  mazes  of  this  tangled  life  you  may 
meet  me  again,  but  I  doubt  it.  The  slide  of  the 
lantern  has  been  shoved;  the  light  is  shut  off. 
An  hour  ago  I  was  a  strong  man,  proud  that  my 
original  ancestor  was  made  in  the  image  of  his 
creator.  Now  I  am  a  piece  of  black  and  blue  flesh, 
beaten,  bruised  by  misfortune.  Mr.  Hawley,  on 
your  part  this  may  not  have  been  a  wanton  cruelty, 
but  you  have  crushed  the  life  out  of  me,  sir;  and 
sir,  should  you  pass  the  place  where  those  bones 
and  horse  heads  were  piled,  together  with  hope  and 
the  brightest  prospects,  look  among  them  and  you 


248  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

may  find  the  stiffened  remains  of  your  humble 
servant.  Look  closer  and  on  a  shoulder  blade, 
serving  as  a  tombstone,  you  may  find  these  words, 
written  by  the  hand  of  despair:  'He  died  because 
he  strove  to  be  a  gentleman !  Judge,  I  have  some 
business  with  you  and  shall  come  over  to  your 
house." 

"Come  very  soon,  Charles,  for  Hawley  and  I  are 
going  to  Chicago  in  a  day  or  two." 

"What,  you  don't  tell  me!  Going  in  a  day  or 
two!  Let  me  see:  I  am  just  a  little  pressed  for 
money  at  present,  but  I  may  decide  to  go  with 
you.  Yes,  I  will  go.  Oh,  how  tired  one  gets  of 
the  dreary  existence  in  this  quiet  pace.  No  change 
from  day  to  day." 

"Charles,"  said  the  Judge,  "there  are  times  when 
your  company  is  very  acceptable  but  I  don't  want 
you  to  go  to  Chicago  with  me.  I  don't  want  to 
be  rendered  conspicuous,  sir." 

Willis  pressed  his  hand  to  his  brow.  "A  ray  of 
hope  and  then  a  settled  darkness,"  he  said.  "All 
things  turn  against  me;  even  my  old  friends  gibe 
me.  The  bone-yard,  Charles  Willis;  the  bone- 
yard.  That's  the  only  place  for  you." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  249 

"Wait  a  moment,"  Hawley  called  after  him  as  he 
stepped  out.  The  despondent  man  turned  back. 

"As  I  said  Willis,  I  don't  want  your  services  in 
the  way  of  raising  asparagus,  but  I  am  more  than 
willing  to  give  you  employment.  You  may  take 
charge  of  the  agricultural  end  of  the  place,  and  I 
will  pay  you  well  for  your  services. 

Willis  looked  up,  and  standing  in  the  attitude  of 
attentive  listening,  remarked:  "An  echo,  was 
that  an  echo?  No,  it  was  a  voice  direct  from  a 
human  being.  Mr  Hawley,  you  have  not  only 
saved  my  life,  but  have  shot  my  breast  full  of  as 
pirations.  Gentlemen,  your  humble  servant  wishes 
you  a  pleasant  trip." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

Early  on  Tuesday  morning  they  were  to  start, 
and  Monday  evening  in  the  Judge's  house,  was  a 
time  of  active  preparation.  Hawley  was  with 
them,  watching  their  anxiety,  listening  to  their 
speculations,  answering  with  a  smile  odd  questions 
that  were  gravely  put;  sometimes  laughing  but 
with  sympathetic  softness.  To  Ida,  the  name  of 
no  town  had  ever  sounded  so  far  away,  and  when 
she  took  a  map  and  looked  for  Chicago,  she  de 
clared  that  it  had  been  moved  since  she  went  to 
school.  The  train  might  run  off  the  track;  she 
had  just  read  of  an  accident  in  Indiana;  a  train 
had  rolled  down  an  embankment,  and  was  smashed 
against  the  rocks.  And  that  was  the  very  road 
they  were  to  go  over.  Hawley  must  telegraph  as 
soon  as  he  got  there ;  no,  a  telegram  would  frighten 
her;  he  must  write  as  soon  as  he  got  off  the  train. 
She  would  think  of  him  every  minute  of  the  time 

250 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  25! 

he  was  gone;  she  thought  of  him  every  minute   of 
the  time  anyway. 

They  were  to  be  married  shortly  after  his  return. 
The  hum  of  a  dress  maker's  sewing-machine  had 
been  heard  in  the  house  all  day,  and  at  evening 
Hawley  had  seen  her  slyly  gathering  up  bits  of 
white  satin  and  pieces  of  ribbon;  had  seen  her 
smile  in  woman's  knowing  way;  had  heard  her  tell 
old  Milly  that  Ida  would  "look  like  a  dream  of 
loveliness." 

The  Judge  had  his  old  white  hat  ironed.  It  had 
been  intimated  by  a  neighbor  who  had  traveled  that 
he  ought  to  get  a  new  one,  but  this  hint  was  met 
half  way  with  a  frown.  He  had  worn  it  in  the 
presence  of  distinguished  men,  had  worn  one 
exactly  like  it,  one  as  old,  into  the  executive  cham 
ber  when  Andrew  Johnson  was  military  governor 
of  Tennessee;  and  he  had  stood  there  with  it  on 
his  head  even  after  old  Johnson  had  bowed  to  him. 
He  brought  out  an  old  carpet-bag,  covered  with 
faded  designs,  beat  the  dust  out  of  it,  rubbed  the 
rust  off  the  catch  and  ordered  old  Milly  to  put  his 
shirts,  his  tooth-brush,  his  bag  of  tobacco  into  it. 
But  this  was  a  little  more  than  Hawley  could 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

stand.  He  knew  that  the  bag  would  invite  the 
contempt  of  the  sleeping  car  porter  and  call  from 
the  street  boy  innumerable  gibes  and  "joshings." 

"Judge,  I  don't  believe  I'd  carry  that,"  he  said. 

"Why  not,  sir?     It's  just  the  thing." 

"Just  the  thing  to  excite  laughter  in  the  street." 

"What's  that?  Laughter?  Is  it  the  custom  to 
laugh  at  a  gentleman  that's  attending  to  his  own 
affairs?  If  that's  the  case,  I'd  better  not  go.  I've 
carried  it  to  New  Orleans  time  and  again  and  no 
one  ever  laughed  at  me.  But  if  you  say  so,  I  won't 
take  it." 

"You  better  not  take  it,  gramper,"  Ida  spoke  up. 
"There  is  my  valise.  Why  not  take  that?" 

"All  right,  it  shall  be  as  you  say,  but  I  gad, 
things  have  come  to  a  pretty  pass  when  a  man 
must  consult  everything  but  his  own  convenience. 
Hawley,"  he  added,  turning  the  carpet-bag  over 
and  looking  at  it,  "I  reckon  you  are  right,  sir;  it 
does  look  a  little  tough.  Madam,  we  want  break 
fast  by  four  o'clock  in  the  morning?" 

"Why,  the  train  doesn't  get  here  until  seven  and 
it  won't  take  us  more  than  fifteen  minutes  to  drive 
to  the  station,"  Hawley  remarked. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  253 

"That's  all  very  well,  but  we  want  plenty  of 
time.  Mandy,  tell  Milly  to  have  breakfast  by  four. 
What  have  you  got  there?" 

"A  piece  of  goods  I  want  you  to  match  in 
Chicago,"  his  wife  answered. 

"Ha,  and  you  have  waited  until  the  last  moment 
to  put  this  clamp  on  me,  have  you?  Do  you  think 
I'm  going  to  trot  all  over  the  town  trying  to  match 
a  piece  of  goods?  And  have  to  carry  it  between 
my  thumb  and  finger  all  the  way  to  keep  from 
forgetting  it?  Hawley's  old  friend  will  say,  'and 
this  is  your  first  visit  to  our  town,'  and  I  will 
answer,  'yes,  I've  come  to  match  a  scrap  of  goods. ' 
Madam,  you  can  go  right  into  town  to  the  place 
where  you  got  the  stuff  and  have  it  matched  in  a 
few  minutes.  It's  an  astonishing  thing  to  me  that 
a  woman  always  wants  to  have  goods  matched  at 
some  strange  place.  What  is  the  origin  of  that 
antipathy,  hah?  Is  it  the  hope  that  you  may  get  a 
better  piece  than  the  original?" 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  talking  on  that  way, 
Judge?"  his  wife  replied.  "I  didn't  think  it  would 
be  any  trouble  for  you  to  step  into  a  store  and 
have  the  thing  matched.  It  wouldn't  for  me,  I 


254  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

know.  Anybody  to  hear  you  talk  would  think  I 
had  asked  you  to  go  somewhere  and  blow  up  a 
mountain.  I  never  saw  such  a  man  in  my  life.  I 
can't  ask  you  to  do  a  thing  that  you  don't  snort 
about  it." 

"Give  it  to  me;  give  it  to  me  and  as  soon  as  I 
get  there  I  will  jump  off  the  train  and  butt  my  way 
into  a  store.  Give  it  to  me,  I  say." 

"I'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I'll  get  it  matched 
myself  to-morrow  when  I  go  to  town." 

"Now  don't  talk  in  that  resigned  way,  Mandy. 
I'll  get  it  for  you;  it  really  won't  be  any  trouble. 
How  much  do  you  want?  Twenty  yards.  All 
right,  I'll  get  it  for  you.  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt 
your  feelings." 

Long  before  day  Hawley  heard  the  old  man 
thumping  about  the  house,  and  he  heard  him  swear 
by  the  Eternal  that  it  beat  anything  he  ever  saw 
in  his  life;  and  upon  going  down  stairs,  he  found 
the  Judge  rummaging  in  the  hall  closet.  The  old 
man  slowly  straightened  up,  wiped  his  brow,  shook 
his  head.  "I've  heard  of  a  good  many  strange 
things  in  my  life,  but  this  takes  the  lead  of  all 
mysteries  I  ever  had  anything  to  do  with,"  he 
declared. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  255 

Havvley  asked  what  the  trouble  was.  The  old 
man  snorted.  "I  don't  know  that  you  can  call  it 
a  trouble,"  he  answered.  "Infernal  miracle  would 
lit  it  better.  Why,  sir,  when  I  went  to  bed  last 
night  I  left  my  hat  hanging  on  a  peg  and  now  it's 
nowhere  to  be  found.  I've  hunted  everywhere, 
in  the  most  out  of  the  way  places,  into  places 
where  the  devil  himself  wouldn't  think  of  hiding 
a  thing  and  yet  I  can't  find*it.  Thought  that  the 
dog  might  have  jumped  up  there  and  got  it  and  I 
took  a  lantern  and  hunted  all  over  the  yard  but  it 
was  nowhere  to  be  found." 

Ida  came  out  into  the  hall.  "Gramper  you  must 
have  left  it  some  whereelse,"  she  said. 

"Don't  you  suppose  I  know  what  I  did?     I    left 
it  hanging  right  up  there,  I  tell  you." 
"Have  you  looked  in  the  dining-room?" 
"I  have  looked  everywhere  but  I'll  look   again." 
He  went  out  and    Ida,  watching    the    door    and 
speaking  low  lest   the   old    man   might    hear    her, 
said:      "Grams  and  I  got  him  another  hat  and   hid 
that  one.      Tell  him  that  you  have  a  new  hat  that 
will  just  fit  him  and  pretend  to  send  after  it  while 
we  are  at  breakfast.      Here  he  comes." 


256  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"If  a  man  were  to  offer  to  explain  this  mystery 
for  a  thousand  dollars,  I  would  take  him  up." 

"We  haven't  time  to  unravel  it  now,  Judge," 
Hawley  said,  and  after  pretending  to  think  for  a 
moment  he  added:  "I  have  a  new  one  that  will 
just  fit  you.  We'll  send  a  boy  after  it." 

"He  has  already  gone,"  said  Ida. 

"All  right.      What  sort  of  a  hat  is  it?" 

Hawley  looked  at  the  girl.  "Why,  you  told  me 
that  it  was  the  nicest  sort  of  a  black,  silk  hat,"  she 
said. 

"So  it  is,"  he  replied. 

"All  right,"  the  old  man  agreed,  "I'll  wear  it,  but 
I  hate  anything  new  as  I  do  a  snake.  Come,  we 
must  have  breakfast  or  we'll  be  left," 

Breakfast  was  not  quite  ready  and  he  impatiently 
walked  up  and  down  the  hall,  looking  out  at  the 
slowly  fading  darkness,  listening  as  if  he  expected 
to  hear  the  rumble  of  the  train, 

At  last  they  were  ready  to  start.  The  boy  had 
brought  the  hat;  the  buggy  was  at  the  gate.  Ida 
had  fled  to  her  room.  They  got  in  and  were  driving 
off  when  Mrs.  Trapnell  cried  to  them  to  stop. 

"What's  the  matter?"  the  Judge  asked. 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  257 

"I  just  wanted  to  remind  you  not  to  forget  that 
goods.     Twenty  yards,  remember." 


Tennessee  Judge    17 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

They  arrived  in  Chicago  early  Wednesday  even 
ing.  When  they  got  off  the  train,  the  old  man 
halted  on  the  platform,  looked  about,  marveled  at 
the  bigness  of  the  railway  station,  asked  a  question 
of  a  baggage  man,  and  would  have  drawn  him  into 
conversation  had  the  man  been  so  inclined  or  had 
Hawley  not  taken  him  by  the  arm  and  hastened 
him  away.  They  went  over  to  State  Street  and 
then  walked  northward.  Backward  and  forward 
swirled  the  current  of  an  endless  crowd,  and  when 
first  taken  adrift,  the  old  man  uttered  that  one  word 
which  is  said  to  be  the  first  poem,  the  first  expres 
sion  of  human  emotion, — "O!"  He  had  seen  great 
crowds,  had  seen  armies  march,  but  they  were 
directed  by  a  single  mind,  holding  a  single  object 
in  view,  but  here  interests  were  wide  apart,  an 
tagonistic;  here  was  the  battle  of  life,  commanded 
by  no  general;  the  guerrilla  warfare  of  avarice,  love, 

hate,  honesty,  villainy,  aspiration,  lust, — all  indi- 

253 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  259 

vidualized.  Some  sudden,  majesty  or  great 
deformity  of  the  present  frightens  the  mind  back  to 
the  quiet  past,  and  the  memory  of  this  old  man, 
sweeping  backward,  recalled  a  time  of  politeness 
when  man  was  quick  of  anger  but  slow  of  rudeness. 
But  in  this  great  throng  he  saw  not  politeness,  not 
anger,  only  rudeness.  He  mused,  as  well  as  the 
jostle  and  the  clang  would  permit  him,  that  this 
town  in  its  wild  and  unmeasured  strength,  was  a 
mocker  of  old  communities,  that  too  young  to  have 
a  memory  it  scoffed  at  tradition.  Suddenly  it 
struck  him  that  this  was  not  a  foreign  city  and 
with  pride  he  dwelt  upon  the  fact  that  he  was  an 
American.  But  the  crowd  still  angered  him.  The 
fermenting  life  within  great  shops  appeared  to  burst 
the  doors  and  pour  out  a  feverish  stream  to  mingle 
with  the  heated  tide  that  swept  along.  At  each 
step  there  was  a  new  confusion;  the  harsh  cry  of 
a  newsboy,  of  the  man  that  had  the  latest  popular 
songs  for  sale,  of  the  Italian  with  a  wagon  load  of 
pears,  the  shriek  of  the  toy  whistle,  the  clang  of  a 
bell,  the  "look  out  there"  of  a  teamster.  The  old 
man  thought  that  he  had  walked  miles;  he  had 
come  but  the  distance  of  five  blocks. 


26O  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

Hawley  was  thrilled.  Like  one  who  turns  from 
the  rich  windings  of  a  long,  vague  poem  to  lively 
and  explicit  prose,  who  holds  the  poem  dear  while 
delighted  with  the  prose,  he  saw  a  thousand  things 
to  enliven  him,  to  quicken  his  blood.  He  walked 
with  a  lighter  step;  he  saw  with  a  sharper  eye. 
He  was  in  the  world  again  and  the  world  was  won 
derful.  He  was  glad  that  he  could  divide  his  time 
between  that  farm  and  this  great  city;  he  was 
thankful  that  Ida  consented  to  this  arrangement. 
Of  course  he  could  live  anywhere  with  her,  but 
how  the  magnetism  of  this  hurrying  life  moved 
him,  and  how  he  should  regret  to  be  cut  off  per 
manently  from  it.  A  friend  in  bumping  past  slapped 
him  on  the  shoulder  and  cried  as  he  hastened  on, 
"Been  out  o^town?"  Another  man  stopped  him 
and  asked:  "Have  you  been  sick;  I've  missed 
you  for  some  time." 

They  went  as  far  as  Madison  Street,  turned  west, 
passed  Dearborn  and  entered  a  restaurant,  white 
with  marble,  flashing  with  mirrors.  The  old  man 
stood  for-  a  moment  like  a  startled  hare,  that 
with  ears  up  sticking,  eyes  apop,  knows  not  which 
way  to  jump.  He  ducked  his  head  as  he  passed 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  26 1 

under  the  black  blades  that  whirled  above,  shot  a 
look  of  resentment  at  an  electric  fan  that  hummed 
on  the  wall,  sent  his  pride  out  after  his  self-pos 
session  and  when  both  returned  to  him,  he  sat 
down  on  a  chair  which  a  waiter  drew  out  for  him, 
looked  about,  folded  his  napkin  and  was  a  stoic. 

From  the  restaurant  they  went  to  Hawley's 
rooms  in  Randolph  Street  where  the  janitor  of  the 
building  met  them  with  the  announcement  that 
everything  was  in  readiness.  In  his  politeness, 
his  soft  voice  and  apparent  pleasure  at  seeing  them 
the  Judge  saw  a  courteous  and  well-bred  man; 
Hawley  saw  a  strong  appeal  for  extra  money. 

The  old  man  was  delighted  with  the  arrange 
ment,  the  comfort  of  the  rooms.  "You  haven't 
got  beds  here  too,  have  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  there's  your  room,  off  there." 

"Well,  it  will  not  be  long  until  I  tumble  into 
bed,  I  tell  you.  I'm  worn  out." 

"Won't  you  take  a  toddy  or  something  before 
lying  down  ?" 

"Is  it  the  custom  of  your  town,  sir?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  it  has  been  regulated 
into  a  custom,"  Hawley  answered,  smiling,  "but  if 


262  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

you  want  it,  take  it.  You  can't  go  by  customs 
here;  there  is  none,  in  fact.  Every  man  is  supposed 
to  do  pretty  much  as  he  pleases." 

"I  thought  that  life  in  a  great  city  was  more 
regulated  than  that." 

"Life  in  a  great  city,  except  in  society,  is  a  free 
dom  unknown  in  the  country." 

"That's  all  nonsense,  sir,  but  we'll  let  it  go." 

"All  right.  The  Doctor  must  be  out  on  a  call," 
he  added,  looking  at  his  watch.  "I  expected  him 
to  meet  us.  There  he  comes.  No,"  he  continued 
as  footsteps  passed  his  door.  "Yes  it  is,"  he 
added,  hearing  some  one  speak  to  the  janitor.  He 
opened  the  door.  Old  Doctor  Ford  grabbed  him 
by  the  hand. 

The  two  old  men  were  introduced.  They  eyed 
each  other  sharply  and  shook  hands,  the  former 
slave  owner  and  the  former  abolitionist,  the  old 
democrat  and  the  old  whig. 

"You  have  taken  good  care  of  my  friend  Hawley," 
said  the  Doctor. 

"He  has  taken  good  care  of  himself,  sir,"  the 
Judge  answered. 

The  talk  started  off  a    little  stiffly   at   first,    one 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  263 

seeming  to  think  that  he  was  called  upon  to  defend 
himself,  the  other  apparently  afraid  that  he  might 
commit  an  aggression.  But  they  soon  came  to 
that  understanding,  that  agreement  which  the  aged 
hold  in  common,  a  contempt  for  the  present. 
They  talked  about  the  great  speeches  that  were 
made  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  century,  of  the 
great  things  that  were  written,  of  men  that  had 
courage  to  fight  for  their  opinions.  In  those  days  the 
editor  of  a  newspaper  was  a  courageous  man;  if  he 
refused  to  fight,  his  paper  lost  cast.  Men  were  not 
afraid  to  put  their  passions  in  print;  but  now,  all 
was  puerility.  "We  no  longer  have  a  poet,"  said 
the  Doctor. 

The  Judge  got  up,  solemnly  shook  hands  with 
him,  smiled  at  Hawley  and  sat  down. 

"The  Doctor  is  the  president  of  a  Shakespeare 
club,"  said  Hawley. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Doctor,  "and  not  of  an  Oscar 
Wild  society.  Talk  about  poetry  written  in  these 
days!  Why,  sir,  it's  the  rhyme  of  the  click,  click, 
click— diluted  passion  thrashed  out  with  a  type 
writer.  Out  of  culture  may  come  a  pale  beauty, 
but  a  poet  to  be  immortal  must  be  mad!" 


264  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"I  agree  with  you,"  said  the  Judge.  "The  South 
has  no  poets  now." 

"And  never  had  any  for  that  matter,  "the  Doctor 
replied. 

"What's  that!"  the  Judge  exclaimed.  "You 
don't  know  what  you're  talking  about.  What 
was  Edgar  Poe?" 

"I  beg  pardon,  Judge,  he  was  a  poet." 

They  dropped  the  subject;  they  were  falling 
away  from  their  agreement.  They  talked  about 
the  condition  of  the  country  and  found  it  wretched. 
There  were  no  strikes  in  the  old  days,  and  it  was 
because  the  country  was  a  democracy  and  not 
merely  a  moneyocracy.  But  they  were  approach 
ing  dangerous  ground  again;  they  could  see  the 
ugly  slough  of  Calhounism,  of  slavery;  and  they 
changed  the  subject. 

"Bob,"  said  the  Doctor,  "I'm  glad  to  see  you 
looking  so  well;  but  ha,  you  ran  away  from 
Chicago  to  save  your  hair  and  had  your  scalp  taken 
by  a  wood-side  nymph.  Judge,  for  some  time 
I've  been  telling  Bob  that  he  ought  to  get  married, 
but  he  paid  no  attention  to  me,  and  I  am  pleased 
to  know  that  Tennessee  influences  have  brought 
him  to  time." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  .     .        265 

"A  man  ought  to  get  married  when  he  finds 
himself  in  love,"  the  Judge  replied. 

"Yes,  especially  then,"  the  Doctor  rejoined, 
"-but  the  married  state  is  the  natural  condition  of 
man." 

"We  are  taught  to  believe  so,  sir.  My  grand 
daughter  is  a  mere  child,  but  she  is  a  noble  child, 
with  the  quality  of  deep  affection  and  without  this 
quality  woman  may  shine  but  she's  only  a  shell." 

Hawley  made  them  a  toddy  of  brandy  and  a 
roasted  apple  that  the  janitor  brought  from  a 
neighboring  restaurant;  and  they  joked,  told 
absurd  stories,  laughed;  they  might  have  been 
taken  for  two  friends  come  together  after  a  lapse 
of  many  years.  Hawley  w,as  delighted.  "I  am 
going  to  give  you  a  dinner  in  these  rooms  to 
morrow  evening,"  said  he,  "and  Doctor  we'll  have 
Bates  here.  A  young  friend  of  ours  who  got  mar 
ried  not  long  ago  and  declares  that  he's  a  slave," 
he  explained  to  the  Judge.  "He  isn't  the  brightest 
man  I  could  pick  out  but  he's  an  excellent  fellow." 

"But  have  you  got  a  kitchen  here  too?"  the 
Judge  asked. 

"Oh,  no;  we'll  send  out  and  have  the  dinner 
served  here." 


266  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"But  won't  that  be  a  great  deal  of  trouble?" 

The  Doctor  laughed.  "You  pay  three  prices  for 
every  trouble  you  cause  a  restaurant  in  this  town," 
he  said.  "If  you  look  everywhere  else  for  a  wolf 
and  fail  to  find  him,  go  to  an  eating-  house  and  there 
he  is,  surrounded  by  his  pack,  catering  mainly  to 
hogs.  Well,  I  must  go.  Judge,  I  am  greatly 
pleased  to  have  met  you;  it  has  done  me  good." 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  old  friend?"  Hawley 
asked  when  the  Doctor's  footsteps  were  no  longer 
heard. 

"He  may  be  narrow-minded  in  some  things,  sir, 
but  he's  a  gentleman,"  the  old  man  answered. 
"However,  we  must  not  expect  a  man  of  Puritan 
stock  to  be  liberal." 

This  tickled  Hawley;  there  was  so  much  of 
human  nature  in  it,  so  much  of  the  old  dispute 
between  the  pot  and  the  kettle. 

The  Judge  was  out  of  bed  by  daylight  the  next 
morning.  Hawley  heard  him  walking  about  the 
room,  in  the  corridor,  down  the  stairway;  he 
dozed  again  and  waking,  heard  him  coming  back. 
He  had  bought  a  newspaper  and  he  sat  reading  it. 
Presently  he  cried  out:  "Hawley  yesterday  was  a 
terrible  day  in  this  town,  sir." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  267 

"What's  the  trouble?"  Hawley  asked,  opening 
the  door  of  the  Judge's  bedroom. 

"Why,  sir,  a  railroad  engine  ran  into  a  street-car 
and  killed  and  crippled  I  don't  know  how  many 
people.  Yes,  and  here's  where  a  man  is  killed  on 
a  bridge,  and  a  woman  is  burned  up,  and  a  wall 
falls  down  and  buries  a  number  of  workmen.  I 
never  heard  of  the  like  in  my  life;  and  I  suppose 
Dr.  Ford  will  be  kept  busy  all  day." 

"He'll  probably  not  hear  anything  about  it," 
Hawley  replied. 

"He  is  obliged  to  hear  about  it.  The  paper  is 
full  of  it,  I  tell  you." 

"It's  bad,  of  course,  but  it  is  almost  of  daily 
occurrence  here." 

"And  yet  they  call  this  a  great  city.  Is  this 
slaughter  a  feature  of  its  greatness?" 

"Not  a  feature  of  its  greatness,  Judge,  but  an 
example  of  its  mishaps." 

"Mishaps!  Well  I  should  think  so.  And  by 
the  way  if  the  people  at  home  read  about  this 
death  harvest  they'll  be  uneasy  about  us.  Have 
you  written  to  Ida?" 

"Yes,  I  scribbled  her  a  note  last  night." 


268  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

"How  long  now  before  we  get  something  to  eat? 
I'm  as  hungry  as  a  bear?" 

"We'll  go  down  in  a  few  moments." 

"All  right;  and  can  we  go  somewhere  else  besides 
that  glass  place?  They've  got  a  lot  of  white 
men  in  there  to  wait  on  people,  and  I  don't  like  to 
have  a  white  man  wait  on  me." 

"But  they  are  mainly  foreigners,  Judge,"  Hawley 
replied,  smiling. 

"That  so?  Well  then  all  right.  We'll  go  there 
and  let  them  wait  on  us.  By  the  way,"  he  added, 
pointing,  "what  are  all  those  girls  doing  over  there 
in  that  roost?" 

"That  is  what's  known  as  a  sweat  shop,  and 
those  creatures  are  giving  their  lives  for  about 
three  dollars  a  week." 

"That's  an  infernal  shame." 

"Yes,  but  it  can't  be  helped." 

"It  could  be  helped  if  there  were  any  heart,  any 
soul  remaining  in  the  human  family.  I  wouldn't 
let  a  dog  work  for  me  that  way.  Let  us  cut  short 
our  visit,  Hawley;  I've  got  no  business  here." 

They  spent  the  day  with  visiting  places  that 
Hawley  thought  would  interest  the  old  man.  They 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  269 

went  to  Hawley's  club,  and  the  Judge  was  anxious 
to  get  away;  they  went  to  the  top  story  of  the 
Masonic  Temple.  The  Judge  looked  out  over  the 
lake,  glanced  down  at  the  ground  and  said:  "Let 
us  get  down  from  here.  This  thing  will  fall  down 
the  first  thing  we  know."  They  went  to  the 
Board  of  Trade.  The  old  man  gazed  down  upon 
the  turmoil  in  the  pit  and  said:  "We've  got  here 
just  in  time  to  see  it  break  up  in  a  row.  Hasn't 
that  fellow  there  got  his  throat  cut?" 

"No,"  Hawley  answered,  "he's  got  on  a  red 
neck-tie." 

"Well,  I'll  swear  I  thought  they  had  cut  his 
wind-pipe.  About  what  time  do  you  think  they'll 
begin  shooting?" 

"They're  all  right;  they  are  in  their  usual 
humor." 

"Well,  let  us  leave  them  in  it,  sir." 

They  were  in  a  street-car.  The  Judge  got  up 
to  give  a  woman  his  seat.  Hawley  got  up  and 
said  to  him:  "Here,  you  take  mine." 

"No,  I  thank  you,  sir;  there  is  another  lady 
standing." 

When  they    got    off   Hawley   remarked:     "You 


2/O  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

would  soon  give  up  that  politeness  if  you  lived 
here.  It's  like  giving  money  in  the  street;  there 
is  no  end  to  it." 

"No  matter  where  I  lived  I  shouldn't  forget  to 
be  polite  in  the  presence  of  ladies,  sir." 

"But  would  you  give  up  your  seat  in  a  theatre?" 

"I  don't  know  that  I  should.  It  is  supposed 
that  each  one  has  secured  a  seat  before  going  there. 
Politeness,  sir,  is  an  advocate  of  common  sense." 

They  visited  some  of  the  court-rooms,  and  the 
old  man  looked  on  gravely,  critically;  shook  his 
head  at  certain  departures  from  time-fixed  pro 
cedure  and  turning  away,  said:  ''They  are  either 
too  slow  or  in  too  much  of  a  hurry,  sir;  they  don't 
know  how  to  wear  their  dignity." 

When  they  returned  to  Hawley's  rooms  they 
found  dinner  ready  to  be  served.  The  Doctor  was 
waiting  for  them,  and  in  a  short  time  Mr.  Bates 
arrived,  a  young  man  with  a  drawl  in  his  voice, 
pale,  thin  of  hair.  Bates  asked  the  Judge  if  there 
were  any  grizzly  bears  in  his  country  and  the  old 
man  answered:  "Not  as  many  as  there  are  in  Chi 
cago,  sir."  Bates  apologized,  said  that  he  thought 
the  Judge  lived  in  a  new  country.  The  Judge 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2/1 

replied  that  his  community  had  once  been  a  part 
of  the  old  colony  of  North  Carolina  and  that  there 
was  no  telling  when  it  was  first  settled.  Bates  was 
glad  to  learn  this  and  he  looked  as  though  he  would 
make  an  effort  to  remember  it;  he  felt  an  interest 
in  that  part  of  the  country  now  that  Hawley  had 
bought  a  farm  there.  He  and  Bob  were  at  college 
together. 

Dinner  was  served.  The  Judge  looked  at  the 
waiter  to  satisfy  himself  as  to  whether  or  not  he 
was  a  foreigner,  and  deciding  that  he  was,  ceased 
to  address  him  as  sir.  The  two  old  men  began  to 
talk  about  the  past.  They  did  not  know  what  the 
future  of  the  country  would  be,  but  it  was  certain 
that  some  sort  of  bloody  conflict  was  soon  to  come. 
The  Doctor  said  that  it  would  be  labor,  rising  up 
to  overthrow  capital.  The  Judge  didn't  know 
about  that.  He  was  inclined  to  think  that  Protes 
tants,  driven  to  the  very  verge  of  their  liberties, 
would  spring  up  like  a  tormented  lion  and  defend 
themselves  against  the  encroachments  of  the  pope. 
Then  there  would  be  blood.  And  unfortunately 
the  country  would  not  have  a  man  like  old  Andrew 
Jackson. 


2/2  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Let's  see,"  said  Bates,  "he  was  impeached  or 
had  some  sort  of  trouble  while  president,  I  be 
lieve." 

The  Judge  dropped*  his  spoon.  He  shoved  him 
self  back  from  the  table,  straightened  up  and  gave 
Bates  a  look  that  must  have  bored  into  him. 
Hawley,  with  a  napkin  at  his  mouth,  turned  about 
and  ducked  his  head.  Bates  shifted  in  his  chair. 
"Of  course  I  don't  remember  anything  about  it," 
said  he,  "but  from  reading  I  gathered,  or  thought 
I  did,  that  Jackson  was  tried  before  the  House." 

"You  mean  Johnson,  sir!"  the  Judge  exclaimed. 

"Perhaps  it  was  Johnson." 

"Perhaps!"  the  old  man  shouted.  "By  the 
Eternal,  it  was  Johnson." 

"All  right,  then,  it  was  my  mistake.  A  man 
can't  keep  track  of  all  those  things,  you  know. 
Of  course  I  know  who  Andrew  Jackson  was.  He 
was  the  man  that  told  South  Carolina  that  if  she 
didn't  look  out  he  would  wallop  the  life  out  of  her." 

"He  was,"  said  the  Judge,  his  countenance 
softening,  his  eyes  batting  out  their  resentful  cast, 
his  mouth  losing  its  harsh  severity.  "I  am  glad, 
sir,  that  you  know  something  about  the  history  of 
your  country." 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  2/3 

Again  the  Doctor  and  the  Judge  entered  into  a 
agreement  as  to  the  glory  of  the  past.  The  world 
would  never  again  see  such  an  era  as  that  through 
which  they  had  lived.  Hawley  got  up,  took  a 
candle  out  of  his  pocket,  lighted  it,  placed  it  on  the 
table  and  snapped  out  the  electric  lights. 

They  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  "Why,  what 
do  you  mean?"  the  Doctor  asked. 

"Oh,  nothing.  I  knew  what  was  coming  and 
have  merely  provided  you  gentlemen  with  a 
feature  of  your  younger  days.  Is  it  possible,  Judge, 
that  you  can't  see.  Sorry  I  couldn't  get  a  tallow 
candle." 

The  old  man  said  nothing.  He  did  not  even 
smile  when  the  Doctor  laughed.  He  had  straight 
ened  himself  and  he  sat  stiffly  oblivious  to  the  joke. 
"Here,"  said  the  Doctor,  "snuff  out  that  past  and 
turn  on  the  present.  This  rude  age  has  made  our 
old  eyes  dim." 

"You  are  right,"  the  Judge  replied,  relaxing, 
smiling  and  turning  with  good  humored  ease  to 
ward  the  Doctor.  "These  youngsters  are  full  of 
their  pranks,  sir,"  said  he,  "and  sometimes  they 
put  it  on  us  old  chaps.  Bob—"  it  was  the  first 

Tennessee  Judge  18 


274  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

time  he  had  called  him  Bob — "that  was  a  good 
joke,  a  rare  joke.  And  I  gad,  it  makes  a  man 
think.  Doctor,  there's  a  good  deal  of  the  fool 
about  an  old  man.  A  fool  or  a  physician  at  forty, 
you  know,  and  some  of  us  are  not  physicians  at 
eighty." 

"Ah,  and  some  of  us  are  fools  and  physicians 
at  seventy,"  the  Doctor  replied. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  Hawley,  "since  you  have 
announced  your  respective  ages — but  I  beg  pardon, 
I  didn't  know  how  that  would  sound."  Then  he 
added:  "The  most  contemptable  fool  of  all  is  a 
young  man  without  reverence,  and  I  came  close  to 
putting  myself  down  as  such.  By  the  way,  Doc 
tor,  I'm  going  to  take  the  Judge  to  see  an  extrav 
aganza  this  evening.  Won't  you  go  along?" 

"No,  I'd  rather  have  something  more  interest 
ing.  I  may  go  somewhere  and  sit  up  with  a  corpse, 
but  I  won't  go  to  a  stuffed  leg  performance." 

"Oh,  well,"  Hawley  replied,  "don't  let  us  inter 
fere  with  any  livelier  entertainment  you  may  have 
in  view.  Sit  up  with  a  corpse  did  you  say?  One 
of  your  patients." 

"Good!"  the  Doctor  exclaimed,  "but   remember 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  275 

that  I  am  not  vain — I  don't  take  so  much  pride 
in  my  own  work.  But  I  might  after  a  while;  I 
might  possible  get  a  whack  at  you." 

"Yes,  that's  true;  man  knoweth  not  the  day  nor 
the  hour  when  the  doctor  and  death  may  snatch 
him.  How  about  you  Bates?  Can  you  go?" 

"No,  I've  got  to  get  home.  Told  my  wife  that 
I  wouldn't  stay  out  long." 

"Still  a  slave,  eh?" 

"Not  exactly  a  slave;  a  sort  of  hired  man." 

They  went  to  an  opera  house,  and  when  three 
skirt  dancers  came  on,  the  Judge,  whispering, 
asked:  "Do  respectable  women  come  here?" 

"Yes,  some  of  the  most  fashionable  women  m 
town." 

"All  right,  then;  if  they  can  stand  it  I  can.  But 
I'll  swear  I  wouldn't  bring  a  lady  here.  Just  look 
at  that.  And  they  are  pretty,  too,  don't  you  see? 
But  I  gad  I'd  rather  see  a  daughter  of  mine  buried 
in  the  ground  ten  feet  deep  than  to  see  her  up 
there  dancing;  and  so  would  nine  tenths  of  the 
women  in  this  audience,  I  warrant  you,  and  yet 
they  come  here  to  see  somebody's  daughters  dance* 
But  I've  got  no  right  to  talk;  I'm  here." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

He  was  startled  at  the  ballet,  the  glow  of  color, 
the  flashing  armor,  the  feathery  dance;  and  like 
an  old  horse  that  throws  up  his  head  at  the  sight 
of  rollicking  colts,  he  gazed,  the  ancient  barbarian 
within  him  enraptured  by  these  splendors  of  brass 
and  tin. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  Hawley  asked  as 
they  were  coming  out. 

"I  gad,  it  is  simply  marvelous,  sir;  I  never  saw 
anything  like  it.  And  I  can  understand  why 
respectable  people  come  here;  respectability  can't 
aways  put  up  with  the  dullness  of  the  world;  it 
can't  give  over  to  vice  all  that  is  bright  and  en 
tertaining." 

When  they  reached  Hawley 's  rooms  the  old  man 
said  that  he  could  stand  a  great  deal  but  that  he 
was  worn  out.  He  was  tired  of  seeing,  of  hearing, 
and  he  wanted  to  get  away  from  this  glaring  hub 
bub.  He  asked  Hawley  if  he  could  do  all  his 
trading  in  one  day,  and  assured  that  it  would  re 
quire  only  a  few  hours,  he  said:  "All  right,  I  will 
wait  here  till  you  get  through,  and  I  think  we'd 
better  start  for  home  as  soon  as  we  can.  I  don't 
think  I  could  live  here  more  than  two  days  longer; 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  277 

this  is  not  an  old  man's  town.  And  if  I  am  called 
upon  to  fight  my  way  from  daylight  till  dark,  I'd 
rather  be  permitted  the  use  of  some  sort  of  a 
weapon." 

"All  right,  Judge,  we'll  start  back  to-morrow 
evening." 

Early  the  next  morning  Hawley  found  him  sit 
ting  at  a  window  with  another  chapter  of  accidents 
in  his  hand.  "They're  still  at  it,"  he  said. 
"Woman  killed  while  walking  along  the  railroad 
track,  and  they  haven't  taken  the  trouble  to  find 
out  her  name.  A  man  falls  out  of  a  window  and 
is  crushed  on  the  sidewalk  and  they  have  given 
him  three  lines  in  the  paper.  What  time  does  the 
train  start?" 

"We'll  leave  here  about  seven." 

"It's  a  long  time  till  then.  Seems  to  me  that  I 
left  home  during  the  summer  of  1845.  Let's  go 
right  down  now  and  eat  so  you'll  have  plenty  of 
time.  And  you  want  to  see  Dr.  Ford  again,  too. 
But  don't  let  that  take  you  long." 

"I'll  be  back  in  plenty  of  time,  Judge." 

"I  hope  so.  Is  there  any  danger  of  the  road 
changing  the  schedule  ?  This  is  just  about  the 


2/8  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

time  they  would  be  likely  to  change  it;  they  are 
up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks.  If  they  can't  kill  a  man 
by  running  over  him  they  run  off  and  leave  him." 

Hawley  was  longer  over  his  purchases  than  he 
had  intended  to  be;  carpets,  furniture,  curtains, 
held  an  interest  that  he  had  not  expected  to  find 
in  them;  and  it  was  nearly  four  o'clock  when  he 
returned.  The  Judge  was  in  a  ferment;  he  swore 
that  they  were  left.  Hawley  told  him  that  he  had 
looked  at  a  time-table  and  had  found  that  the  train 
did  not  leave  until  half  past  seven.  That  made  no 
difference;  they  were  left,  for  the  old  man  had 
seen  half  a  dozen  omnibusses,  loaded  with  passen 
gers,  going  toward  the  station.  But  perhaps  if 
they  rushed  they  might  still  get  there  in  time. 
Hawley  said  that  they  would  get  dinner  before 
going  to  the  station.  The  old  man  snorted.  They 
had  no  time  for  dinner;  they  could  grab  up  some 
thing  and  eat  it  on  the  train. 

"My  dear  Judge,"  said  Hawley,  "I  am  even  more 
anxious  to  get  back  than  you  are.  Don't  worry; 
leave  it  to  me." 

At  last  they  were  on  the  train;  they  had  waited 
at  the  station  nearly  an  hour,  but  the  Judge  had 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  279 

given  up  none  of  his  anxiety  until  he  got  aboard; 
he  had  what  women  call  the  fidgets. 

"Now  what  are  they  waiting  for?"  he  asked. 

"Waiting  for  their  time  to  start,"  Hawley  an 
swered. 

He  took  the  fidgets  again;  he -swore  that  as  the 
train  had  not  succeeded  in  slipping  off  from  them, 
it  was  now  determined  to  wear  them  out  with 
waiting.  He  asked  a  porter  if  the  train  intended 
to  leave  that  night.  The  porter  paid  no  attention 
to  him,  and  the  old  man  said:  "If  I  had  that 
impudent  rascal  down  my  way  I'd  tan  his  black 
hide.  What,  is  it  possible  that  we're  going?" 
He  drew  a  sigh  of  relief;  he  affectionately  placed 
his  hand  on  Hawley's  arm. 

They  were  delayed  in  Louisville  and  it  was  night 
when  the  train  reached  Gallatin,  but  the  negro 
boy  was  there  with  the  buggy,  waiting  for  them. 
As  they  were  driving  off  the  old  man  said:  "Ah, 
this  is  the  air,  my  boy.  The  devil  sneezes  up  yon 
der  in  that  smoke,  but  God  breathes  here." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

They  were  yet  some  distance  from  the  house, 
when  from  the  dark  shadow  of  the  road  side,  out 
upon  the  white  turnpike  a  form  came  swiftly  and 
a  voice  cried:  "Is  that  you  gramper?"  Ida  had 
come  to  meet  them.  She  climbed  into  the  buggy, 
gleeful  as  a  child,  trying  to  tell  her  delight  but 
only  laughing  it;  she  insisted  upon  taking  the 
lines  and  she  cried  out,  "Why,  I  can't  drive  Mr. 
Robert  unless  you  let  my  hands  alone."  She  tried 
to  tell  them  many  things  and  told  them  nothing 
except  that  the  buggy  had  been  sent  as  an  experi 
ment,  that  they  were  not  really  expected,  but  that 
she  thought  "gramper"  might  get  tired  and  want 
to  come  home.  "Of  course  I  knew  that  Mr.  Robert 
would  stay  away  as  long  as  he  could,"  she  said, 
"and  it  is  really  a  wonder  that  he  came  back  so 
soon.  Oh,  you  did  stay  as  long  as  you  could?  I 
must  thank  you  for  saying  that;  but  I  can't  drive 

this  way.   You  take  the  lines,  gramper.      He  won't 

280 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  281 

let  me  alone.    Oh,  I  know    you    pretend  that  you 
will,  but  you  won't.      Here  gramper." 

Mrs.  Trapnell  stood  at  the  gate.  "Well,  here 
you  are  sure  enough.  I  didn't  expect  you  but  Ida 
insisted  that  we'd  better  send  the  buggy." 

She  cordially  shook  hands  with  Hawley  and  as 
the  old  man  was  getting  out  of  the  buggy,  she 
asked:  "Judge,  did  you  bring  that  goods?" 

He  made  no  sort  of  intelligible  reply;  he 
grunted,  stamped  his  feet  to  take  the  stiffness  out 
of  his  legs,  kissed  his  wife  a  dry-sounding  smack 
and  turned  toward  the  house. 

"I  asked  if  you'd  brought  the  goods?" 

"Madam,"  said  he,  halting  and  facing  her, 
"select  any  object  that  may  so  suit  your  fancy  and 
I  will  butt  my  head  against  it.  I  didn't  bring  the 
goods,  forgot  all  about  the  stuff,  forgot  everything, 
forgot  my  name.  They  began  to  slaughter  people 
the  minute  we  got  there  and  I  was  on  the  dodge  all 
the  time.  That  tree  do?  If  you  say  so  I'll  butt 
my  head  against  it." 

"Mrs.  Trapnell,"  said  Hawley,  "I  found  the 
sample  on  the  floor  where  the  Judge  dropped  it. 
I  had  the  order  filled  and  the  goods  will  be  here 
in  a  day  or  two." 


282  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Ah,  but  you  are  a  sly  rascal,"  the  Judge  de 
clared,  taking  his  arm.  "And  you  wouldn't  tell 
me;  wanted  to  see  me  get  a  blowing  up.  Mandy, 
is  supper  ready?  I  gad,  I  haven't  had  anything  to 
eat  since  I  left." 

At  supper  the  old  man  vowed  that  a  foreign 
cook  would  kill  him  within  a  week.  Talk  about 
dyspepsia  being  an  American  ailment,  why  he  had 
never  heard  of  it  until  late  years.  The  Frenchmen 
had  introduced  it  with  his  out-landish  sauces  and 
the  German  had  helped  it  along  with  his  slop. 
And  those  wretched  creatures,  starving  in  the  old 
country,  had  turned  up  their  noses  at  the  American 
corn,  sent  out  by  our  people  in  their  broad  gener 
osity.  I  gad,  they  ought  to  starve  if  they  held  their 
appetites  above  corn;  Andrew  Jackson  ate  corn 
bread,  so  did  old  Jim  Polk. 

Hawley  and  Ida  sat  on  a  bench  under  a  tree  in 
the  yard.  There  was  love,  quiet  joy,  in  the  soft 
sighing  of  the  night;  and  as  through  a  diaphanous 
mist,  they  gazed  at  the  new  life  upon  which  they 
soon  were  to  enter.  To  love,  the  horizon  is  ever 
near,  and  the  eye  seeks  not  to  penetrate  the  blue 
vastness  that  must  lie  beyond  it.  Calculation,  to 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  283 

estimate  the  chances  that  lie  between  failure  and 
success,  happiness  and  misery,  belongs  to  wisdom 
but  not  to  sentiment. 

They  were  going  to  be  happier  than  man  and 
wife  had  ever  been.  During  all  the  ages  of  the 
world,  love  had  hung  as  green  fruit,  but  now  grown 
ripe,  it  had  fallen  on  the  matted  grass  at  their  feet. 
It  was  all  so  strange.  What  lover  has  not  said 
this?  He  had  been  strong  in  his  belief  that  he 
could  never  love,  and  this  young  thing  said  that 
she  had  thought  the  same  of  herself.  A  dewdrop 
gleamed,  and  he  said  that  the  stars  had  thrown 
down  one  of  their  children;  and  she  asked  him 
why  he  did  not  write  poetry.  He  answered  that 
cold  ink  from  a  bottle  could  not  express  the 
warmth  of  his  soul,  that  alone  could  be  done  by 
a  hot  gush  of  blood  from  his  heart.  But  in  his 
arms  he  held  the  sweetest  and  purest  of  all 
poems,  and  God  had  written  it  for  him.  More 
foolish  than  children  as  thoughtless  as  an  emotion 
they  sat,  dreaming,  talking  in  their  sweet  sleep. 
He  was  happy  to  forget  that  he  had  ever  been 
practical;  she  was  joyous  to  know  that  in  love,  she 
was  loved. 


284  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

The  light  in  the  sitting-room  sank  to  dimness, 
then  went  out.  It  was  time  for  him  to  go,  he 
said.  She  went  to  the  gate  with  him,  made  him 
promise  to  come  over  early  the  next  day,  to  tell 
her  about  the  carpets,  the  furniture,  the  curtains. 
Across  the  fields  he  took  his  way.  The  glow 
worms  were  in  the  grass;  the  music  of  the  rippling 
creek  was  in  the  air.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock 
when  he  reached  home,  but  old  Lily  was  still  up, 
sitting  in  front  of  her  door,  humming  a  weird  tune 
in  the  moon-light,  the  tune  that  has  no  maker, 
the  vague  wandering  of  a  musical  instinct.  She  was 
startled  when  he  turned  the  corner  of  the  house, 
but  recognizing  him,  she  jumped  up  with  an  excla 
mation  of  welcome.  She  declared,  and  before 
the  Lord,  as  she  expressed  it,  that  she  never  had 
been  so  glad  to  see  a  person.  It  did  "seem  like" 
he  had  been  away  a  year.  She  had  hardly  expected 
to  see  him  again,  going  so  far  away  off  yonder, 
and  she  had  not  felt  safe  while  he  was  absent. 
That  trifling  white  man  Roark  had  come  through 
the  yard  one  day  and  abused  her  scandalously,  he 
had,  and  just  for  nothing  in  the  world,  too.  That 
wasn't  any  way  to  act  while  Mr.  Hawley  was  away 
from  home. 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  285 

"He  didn't  strike  you,  did  he?" 

"Oh,  no,  sah,  he  jest  'bused  me;  talked  ter  me 
scan'lus.  An'  s'l  gone  wid  you,  man,  caze  I  doan 
know  whut's  got  inter  you,  no  how." 

There  was  sonfiething  in  the  air,  in  the  moon 
light  to  keep  one  awake,  there  was  a  quiet  that 
brings  restlessness.  Hawley  sat  in  the  "vine  room" 
at  the  ruined  end  of  the  house,  smoking  a  pipe, 
musing,  thrilled  with  the  memory  of  a  kiss,  and 
yet  angered  to  think  of  Roark's  insolence.  Sud 
denly  he  ceased  smoking  and  listened.  Old  Ben 
had  just  come  into  the  yard  and  was  talking  to 
Lily  "I  tole  'im  dat  he  better  keep  off  dis  place; 
met  him  right  out  dar  er  minit  er  go  an'  tole  'im 
so.  Lowed  dat  it  want  none  o'  my  look-out. 
Santerin'  right  er  long  yander  in  de  woods  lot  now. 
Been  talkin'  shamefully  'bout  Mr.  Hawley." 

Hawley  put  down  his  pipe.  Should  he  overtake 
the  fellow  and  beat  him?  He  had  a  strong  impulse 
to  follow  him,  but  he  would  let  him  go. 

"Yas,"  he  heard  old  Ben  continue,  "an'  dat  ain' 
all;  he  been  talkin'  scan'lus  er  bout  Miss  Ida." 

Hawley  climbed  down  the  crumbling  wall, 
bounded  across  the  yard,  leaped  the  fence,  ran 


286  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

into  the  woods,  and  seeing  some  one  walking  slowly 
along,  cried  out,  "Wait  there!" 

John  Roark  turned  about  and  stood  facing  him. 

"Didn't  I  send  you  word  not  to  put  your  foot  on 
this  place  again!"  he  asked  when  within  a  few 
steps  of  the  path  in  which  Roark  stood. 

"Believe  you  did." 

"Then  what  are  you  doing  here?"  He  was  now 
within  reach  of  him. 

"Coming  from  town,  and  this  is  the  shortest  way 
home.  It  saves  time." 

"But  does  it  save  any  time  for  you  to  go  to  my 
house  while  I'm  not  at  home  and  abuse  an  old 
woman?" 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  want  to  take  up  an  old  negro 
woman's  quarrel,  it's  all  right.  Go  ahead." 

"But  that  isn't  all.  I  heard  that  you  have  been 
talking — "  he  hesitated.  "Talking  not  only  about 
me,  for  that  makes  no  particular  difference,  but 
about  some  one  else." 

"Mr. — I've  'bout  forgotten  your  name — you 
needn't  come  bullying  around  me  even  if  I  am  on 
your  place.  I  don't  know  what  you  are  trying  to 
get  at  but  whatever  I  said  goes." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  287 

"Does  it!" 

Hawley  struck  him  in  the  face,  grabbed  him  be 
fore  he  could  fall,  jammed  him  against  a  tree. 

"Does  it!" 

He  choked  him  until  his  eyes  were  popping  out; 
until  his  hands  were  limp.  A  knife  fell  to  the 
ground. 

"Oh,  I  ought  to  kill  you,  you  infernal  scoundrel!" 

Roark's  head  had  fallen  forward;  he  was  gasp 
ing.  He  muttered  something *  he  was  begging. 
"Go,  you  wretch,  and  if  I  ever  catch  you  here 
again  I'll  kill  you." 

He  turned  him  loose.  Panting,  making  a  noise 
as  if  strangling,  he  leaned  against  the  tree. 

"Are  you  going!" 

He  stooped  to  pick  up  the  knife.  Hawley  put 
his  foot  on  it.  "Are  you  going!  I  say." 

"Yes,"  he  said  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  He  turned 
away,  stumbling,  and  Hawley  watched  him  until 
he  was  swallowed  by  the  dark  shadow  of  the  trees. 

Old  Ben  and  his  wife  were  still  talking  when 
Hawley  returned  to  the  house.  The  woman  was 
saying  that  they  ought  not  to  tell  the  white  folks, 
to  cause  them  trouble  just  at  this  time  when  they 


288  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

were  getting  ready  for  a  wedding.  Ben  said  that 
he  didn't  know  about  that.  Weddings  were  all 
right  enough,  but  a  man  had  to  keep  people  from 
running  over  him,  no  matter  if  he  was  in  love. 
They  knew  nothing  of  the  fight  in  the  woods. 

Hawley  went  to  bed  but  could  not  sleep.  He 
dozed  and  heard  the  fellow  choking,  begging  for 
mercy;  saw  the  moon-light  fall  upon  his  eyes, 
popping  out.  Hour  after  hour  passed.  The  air 
was  heavier;  the  moon  was  gone;  rain  began  to 
fall.  Old  Lily  called  him  to  breakfast.  He  got 
up,  tired  as  he  was,  and  soon  after  breakfast,  he 
went  to  the  Judge's  house.  Ida  was  startled  when 
she  saw  him.  Was  he  ill?  No,  but  he  hadn't  slept 
any;  he  often  had  such  fits  of  restlessness.  Was 
it  anything  that  she  had  said?  There  was  woman, 
sweetheart.  She  wouldn't  say  anything  to  hurt  his 
feelings  for  the  world.  Something  was  on  his 
mind  Wouldn't  he  please  tell  her?  He  fondly 
kissed  her.  There  was  nothing  on  his  mind;  every 
thing  was  on  his  heart,  a  sweetness  and  it  was  his 
love  for  her. 

The  Judge  had  gone  to  town  to  prepare  his  cases 
for  court.  He  had  an  office  but  was  rarely  in  it; 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  289 

he  was  gradually  giving  up  his  practice.  Hawley 
and  the  girl  strolled  about  the  place,  through  the 
orchard,  in  the  woods.  They  went  up  the  creek 
to  the  shelving  under  which  they  had  first  made 
known  their  love.  He  forgot  Roark;  forgot  every 
thing  save  this  happy  young  creature  and  himself. 

Upon  returning  to  the  house,  they  found  the 
Judge  at  home;  and  he  wanted  to  speak  privately 
to  Hawley.  Then  went  out,  walked  along  the 
fence  and  stood  near  the  horse-block. 

"Have  you  heard  that  Roark  is  missing?" 

Hawley  started.     "Missing?" 

"Yes,  they  don't  know  where  he  is.  He  was  in 
town  all  day  yesterday  and  started  home  late  at 
night  in  company  with  Lige  Crump.  They  sepa 
rated  and  the  last  seen  of  Roark  he  was  going 
through  your  field,  toward  the  house." 

Hawley  was  silent.  "His  sister  was  in  town  to 
day,"  the  Judge  continued,  "and  was  greatly  dis 
tressed;  says  that  he  never  stayed  out  all  night 
without  sending  her  word.  Crump  was  in  town  too, 
and  had  a  talk  with  the  sister.  And  I  gad,  sir,  do 
you  know  that  they  are  trying  to  implicate  you  in 
his  disappearance?" 

Tennessee  Judge  19 


A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

Hawley  put  his  hand  on  the  fence.  Could  it  be 
possible  that  he  had  mortally  hurt  the  man  and 
that  he  had  fallen  dead  in  the  woods? 

"I  will  tell  you  something,"  said  Hawley.  And 
he  told  him  of  the  fight.  The  old  man  listened 
eagerly.  "You  did  exactly  what  you  ought  to  have 
done,"  he  said.  "But  there  is  something  else  back 
of  it.  You  didn't  hurt  him  bad  enough  to  kill  him. 
Still,  just  at  this  time  it  won't  do  for  you  to  say 
that  you  met  him  in  the  woods  and  choked  him." 

"But  I  ought  to  say  something,  Judge." 

"Not  yet,  and  I'll  tell  you  why.  The  roughest 
element  in  this  whole  section  of  country  was  at 
that  fellow's  beck  and  call,  and — well,  don't  say  a 
word  about  it  now.  If  they  find  the  body,  then 
you  may  step  forward  and  deliver  your  testimony; 
bravely  acknowledge  what  you  have  clone," 

"Do  you  suppose  that  fellow  Crump  will  swear 
out  a  warrant  against  me?" 

"He  might  have  done  so,  but  he  \yon't  do  it  now. 
I  told  him  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs  or  I  would 
hurt  him;  and  he  knows  that  I  meant  it." 

"I'll  swear,  I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

"You  can  do  nothing  but  wait." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  291 

"I'm  afraid  the  county  paper  will  say  some 
thing  about  it  and  then  the  Chicago  papers  will 
take  it  up.  I  wish  to  God  I  had  let  him  alone." 

"By  the  Eternal,  you  couldn't  let  him  alone, 
sir;  you  had  to  stop  his  mouth." 

"But  I  am  afraid  that  I  have  stopped  it  forever." 

"No,  you  haven't;  there  is  something  back  of  it, 

I  tell  you." 

• 

"But  shouldn't  the  marriage  be  postponed  until 
I  am  cleared  of  this  suspicion?  Wouldn't  it  be 
an  injustice  to — " 

"My  dear  boy,  stop  right  where  you  are.  I 
want  you  to  understand  that  I  am  your  friend, 
regardless  of  any  other  tie  that  might  exist  be 
tween  us,  and  that  I  will  stand  by  you.  Keep 
it  from  Ida;  it  would  distress  her.  Say  nothing 
and  wait." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Mrs.  Trapnell  knew  that  something  had  gone 
wrong;  her  sharp  eyes  saw  trouble  in  Hawley's 
countenance;  her  sharp  nose  scented  the  air  of 
mystery  that  hung  about  the  place.  She  besought 
the  Judge  to  tell  her,  at  night  when  they  were 
alone,  at  morning  when  he  was  supposed  to  be 
fresh-  and  confiding;  but  he  knew  nothing,  said 
that  nothing  had  gone  wrong.  Was  Mr.  Hawley 
sick?  The  Judge  did  not  know  that  he  was.  Had 
they  found  Roark?  They  had  not.  But  why 
should  his  disappearance  have  disturbed  Mr. 
Hawley?  The  Judge  did  not  know  that  it  had. 

Ida  was  nervous,  almost  ill  with  anxiety.  She 
was  afraid  that  Hawley  had  ceased  to  love  her; 
she  reproached  him,  begged  his  pardon,  cried. 
She  knew  that  she  was  too  silly  to  share  his  con 
fidence,  but  if  he  loved  her,  how  could  he  refuse 
to  tell  her  everything.  She  would  tell  him  every 
thing,  she  had  told  him  everything,  all  her  thoughts. 

292 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

She  would  not  trouble  him  any  more;  she  would 
not  cause  him  pain,  and  she  saw  that  she  did  cause 
him  pain.  Perhaps  after  a  long  while  he  might 
learn  to  trust  her.  Hawley  assured  her  that  there 
was  no  trouble,  that  he  knew  nothing  to  tell  her. 
He  was  not  well,  that  was  all.  And  thus  three 
days  were  passed. 

In  the  town,  at  the  toll  gate,  in  the  fields, 
throughout  the  county  the  disappearance  of  Roark 
was  discussed.  It  was  a  deep,  enjoyable  mystery; 
there  had  been  nothing  like  it  since  the  war.  In 
the  woods  a  knife  was  found,  taken  to  the  court 
house  and  placed  on  exhibition.  Hawley's  name 
was  on  many  tongues.  Why  did  they  not  arrest 
him?  Was  it  because  he  was  rich?  Was  it  be 
cause  every  body  was  afraid  of  the  Judge? 

The  night  was  over-hung  with  clouds;  a  wind 
was  blowing.  Several  buggies  and  a  carriage 
were  ranged  along  the  road-side  near  the  Judge's 
house.  Ever-y  room  was  lighted.  All  within  was 
silent.  Down  the  turnpike  a  noise  arose,  the 
tramping  of  men,  bearing  torches.  Louder  the 
noise  grew.  It  was  a  mob.  On  they  came,  not 
with  the  tread  of  soldiers,  but  with  the  scattered 


294  A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

foot-steps  of  a  riot.  They  halted  at  the  yard  fence. 
"Climb  over!"  Lige  Crump  cried.  He  was  at  the 
head.  They  climbed  the  fence,  their  torches 
flaring  in  the  wind.  They  were  under  the  trees 
in  the  yard.  Just  then  the  Judge  stepped  out. 
He  was  surprised,  startled,  and  he  closed  the  door 
behind  him,  and  stood  upon  the  stone  steps,  facing 
the  mob. 

"What  do  you  want  here?"  he  asked,  endeavor 
ing  to  be  calm. 

"We  want  that  man  Hawley!"  Crump  answered. 

"You  can't  see  him  now.  This  is  his  wedding 
night.  He  has  just  married  my  granddaughter." 

"He  will  have  another  bride  before  morning," 
Crump  replied  The  ruffians  behind  him  laughed. 
Among  them  were  railroad  laborers,  negroes, 
tramps.  Crurnp  continued:  "The  law  won't  take 
up  our  cause  for  the  reason  that  it's  a  coward. 
We  take  it  up  ourselves.  The  body  of  John  Roark 
has  been  found,  with  his  head  crushed  in.  We 
are  going  to  hang  his  murderer.  Get  out  of  the 
way!  Come  on  men!" 

"Stop,  or  by  the  Eternal  I'll  kill  you." 

The  door  opened. .    Hawley   stepped   out.      His 


A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE  295 

wife,  screaming,  strove  to  hold  him  back.  He 
tried  gently  to  free  himself,  told  her  that  there  was 
no  danger,  that  he  wanted  simply  to  speak  to 
Crump.  Crump  stood  at  the  edge  of  the  brick 
walk,  near  the  steps.  His  hat  was  off  and  his 
long  hair  was  blown  by  the  wind,  in  weird  unison 
with  the  flaring  torches. 

"There  he  is!  We  want  you!"  came  from  the 
mob. 

Hawley  stood  looking  at  Crump,  his  wife  hang 
ing  on  his  arm,  sobbing,  begging  him  to  corne 
back  into  the  house.  The  Judge  was  between 
Hawley  and  Crump,  turning  first  toward  one  and 
then  the  other,  helplessly,  hopelessly  thrusting  his 
hands  into  his  pockets. 

"We  have  found  the  man  you  murdered!"  Crump 
cried,  his  neck  stretched,  slowly  moving  forward 
as  if  he  were  stealing  upon  something,  gazing 
at  Hawley,  .  at  the  Judge,  and  then  halting  as 
the  Judge  clapped  his  hand  behind  him.  "We 
have  found  the  man  you  murdered — found  him  at 
the  mouth  of  the  branch  with  his  head  crushed. 
Dr.  Moffet  says  that  he  saw,you  murder  him,  and 
now  we  want  you." 


296  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

A  hoarse  roar  came  from  the  mob.  Women 
fainted  in  the  door-way  and  an  aged  preacher 
cried:  "Stand  back  there.  I  command  peace  in 
the  name  of  the  law  and  the  gospel  of  Jesus  Christ !" 

"Listen  to  me  a  moment!"  Hawley  demanded. 
"Would  you  take  the  word  of  an  imbecile?  Dr. 
Moffet  has  lost  his  mind  and  doesn't  know  what 
he  says.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  Wait  just  a 
moment.  I  will  conceal  nothing.  I  had,  as  you 
know,  Crump,  sent  Roark  word  not  to  come  on 
my  place  again,  but  during  my  absence  he  came 
to  my  house  and  abused  one  of  my  servants,  an 
old  woman.  More  than  that,  he  talked  about  me 
and — and —  He  placed  his  hand  on  his  wife's 
head.  She  seized  it,  still  begging,  still  trying  to 
draw  him  back  into  the  house.  "I  caught  him 
going  through  my  woods,  and  I  struck  him  in  the 
face  and  choked  him  but  I  did  not  kill  him;  I 
stood  and  watched  him  as  he  Walked  away.  If  his 
head  was  crushed,  some  one  else  crushed  it." 

"You  are  a  liar!"  Crump  shouted. 

Hawley  sprang  off  the  steps.  His  wife,  endeav 
oring  to  hold  him,  slipped  and  fell.  Willis  leaped 
from  the  door  and  caught  her  up  as  if  she  had 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  297 

been  a  child.  The  Judge  dodged  about  between 
Hawley  and  Crump.  "Don't  shoot!"  some  one 
yelled,  "you  might  hit  Lige." 

"Get  away  Judge!"  Hawley  brushed  the  old  man 
aside. 

"My  God,  they'll  kill  you!"  the  old  man  ex 
claimed.  "Stand  back  there  you  scoundrels." 

Like  a  tiger  Hawley  jumped  upon  Crump,  bore 
him  to  the  ground,  choking  him.  The  ruffians 
under  the  trees  leaped  forward.  "Stop!"  cried 
the  Judge,  "I'll  shoot  you."  But  he  stood  empty 
handed,  and  they  heeded  him  not.  Suddenly, 
from  somewhere  out  in  the  darkness  came  the 
loud  cry:  "I  killed  John  Roark"  A  startle,  and 
a  shudder  were  in  the  vibrant  tones  of  that  strange 
voice;  and  every  one  was  still.  In  a  second  Haw 
ley  had  sprung  to  his  feet;  in  a  second  Crump 
stood  panting,  listening.  " I  killed  John  Roark," 
the  cry  came  again. 

"Where  are  you,"  the  Judge  shouted.  And  then, 
out  of  the  darkness  into  the  spectral  light  of  the 
torches,  slowly  strode  the  Professor  of  Moral  Phi 
losophy.  His  eyes,  wide  open,  held  no  light;  on 
his  face  was  the  pallor  of  a  corpse. 


298  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

"Put  by  your  pistols,  poor  fools.  Stand  back 
there  and  I  will  tell  you  something,"  he  said,  as  he 
came  upon  the  brick  walk.  "Idiots,  don't  you 
know  me  ?  Now  listen  and  you  will  learn  some, 
thing." 

He  mounted  the  steps  as  though  he  were  going 
to  deliver  a  calm  discourse.  The  women  who  had 
thronged  the  doorway  fled  from  him.  The  old 
preacher  stood  just  above  him.  Hawley  had 
caught  his  wife  in  his  arms,  and  with  tender  words 
was  soothing  her. 

The  Professor  took  off  his  hat,  threw  it  on  the 
ground,  raised  his  arms  and  said:  "I  killed  John 
Roark."  The  hard  breathing  of  the  ruffians  caught 
his  attention,  and  he  frowned  at  them.  "Yes,  I 
killed  him,  my  experiment  was  a  failure,  and  I  am 
here  to  acknowledge  it.  You  clods  out  there  in 
the  shadow  don't  know  what  thought  is.  You  are 
in  the  shadow  now;  you  have  always  been  in  the 
shadow.  I  was  searching  for  a  new  philosophy. 
I  swore  that  I  would  refute  the  belief,  the  theory 
that  murder  will  out,  but  gentlemen,"  he  added, 
bowing  to  the  Judge,  to  Hawley  and  then  to  the 
preacher  who  stood  looking  down  upon  him,  "I 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  299 

have  failed,  and  I  am  here  to  acknowledge  my 
failure.  This  idea  had  held  possession  of  me  for 
a  long  time,  and  had  it  proved  a  success,  I  would 
have  startled  the  world  by  proclaiming  it  in  my 
university.  One  evening  while  coming  through 
th,e  woods,  I  found  a  tree  that  had  been  recently 
blown  down,  tearing  up  the  earth,  leaving  a  deep 
hole;  and  my  new  philosophy,  with  the  light  of  a 
fresh  promise,  flashed  across  my  mind.  Why 
couldn't  I  kill  a  man  and  bury  him  in  that  hole? 
Who  would  think  of  digging  where  a  tree  had  been 
blown  down.  No  one.  Here  was  my  chance  It 
made  no  particular  difference  to  me  whom  I  killed, 
with  the  exception  of  Mr.  Hawley,  for  I  depended 
upon  him  and  his  money  to  help  me  establish  my 
university.  Why  should  it  have  made  any  differ 
ence  whom  I  killed?  Science  has  no  victim,  but  a 
subject.  But  bring  a  chair  here  for  this  lady. 
You  must  be  tired  holding  her,  sir." 

"For  God's  sake  goon!"  Hawley  replied. 

"Thank  you,  As  I  say,  it  made  no  difference 
to  me  whom  I  killed,  and  I  thought  that  who 
ever  he  might  be,  he  ought  to  feel  proud  to  be  used 
in  such  a  demonstration.  I  mused  over  it .  until 


3OO  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

late.  It  must  be  done  in  the  night,  for  science 
has  its  tricks,  its  dark  room.  I  went  to  Hawley's 
house  and  looked  about  but  saw  no  one.  Then  I 
went  down  into  the  woods,  not  far  from  the  place 
where  the  tree  had  blown  down.  It  had  fallen 
across  the  branch  and  was  used  as  a  foot  log.  So 
much  the  better;  people  would  pass  within  a  few 
feet  of  my  secret.  I  waited  a  longtime,  I  started 
again  toward  Hawley's  house.  I  heard  some  one 
coming  along,  cursing.  I  stepped  beind  a  tree, 
for  as  I  say,  science  has  its  tricks.  I  waited.  The 
man  came  on;  his  foot-step  was  on  the  grass  near 
me.  But  he  turned  aside  and  was  going  to  pass 
too  far  away  from  me,  and  I  quickly  stepped  from 
one  tree  to  another  till  I  was  within  a  few  feet  of 
him.  I  called  and  he  started  to  run,  I  thought,  but 
when  I  told  him  who  I  was  he  waited  for  me.-  I 
walked  up  to  him.  I  held  my  stick  in  my  hand. 
He  said  that  he  hadn't  any  time  for  me,  that  he 
was  mad,  that  he  was  going  home  to  get  his  gun. 
I  told  him  that  he  might  not  have  time  but  that 
he  had  eternity,  and  with  that  I  tiptoed  and  hit 
him  on  the  top  of  the  head  with  my  stick.  He 
fell  and  groaned  and  I  hit  him  again.  Then  he 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  30! 

was  quiet.  I  felt  for  his  pulse;  he  had  none.  Then 
I  tried  to  take  him  up  and  carry  him  to  the  place 
where  the  tree  had  blown  down,  but  he  was  so 
heavy  that  I  couldn't  carry  him;  so  I  dragged  him. 
Oh,  what  a  load  he  was  and  what  a  relief  I  felt 
when  I  got  him  there.  Now  the  most  interesting 
part  of  the  work  was  to  be  done.  I  must  dig  down 
in  that  place  and  get  enough  dirt  to  cover  him.  I 
had  forgot  to  provide  myself  with  a  hoe.  In  its 
eagerness  a  new  philosophy  is  negligent  of  many 
things.  I  got  a  flat,  sharp  stone  and  scooped  out 
the  clay,  and  at  last, the  hole  was  big  enough.  So 
there  I  put  him  down,  and  covered  him,  but  I  did 
not  pat  the  dirt  about  him.  That  would  have 
been  too  orderly  and  would  have  aroused  suspicion. 
I  made  it  rough,  just  as  it  had  been  left  by  the 
tearing  roots  of  the  tree.  Then  I  went  home, 
thrilled  at  my  victory.  Rain  fell  to  wash  the  blood 
off  the  grass  if  I  had  spilled  any  there;  and  murder 
would  not  out.  Soon  I  began  to  hear  of  the 
mysterious  disappearance  of  a  man,  and  in  the 
night  I  lay  in  bed,  aniinalizing,  hoging  over  my 
secret.  They  couldn't  find  him.  Of  course  they 
couldn't;  and  how  I  laughed  to  myself  when  I 


302  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

saw  people  crossing  the  foot-log.  But  I  was 
thoughtless  and  impractical  in  my  happiness.  One 
evening  just  about  dusk  I  crossed  the  foot-log. 
It  was  yesterday  evening  and  there  had  been  a 
rain,  and  the  branch  was  high.  What!  As  I  stepped 
upon  the  log  I  saw  that  the  water  had  run  round 
and  was  washing  through  the  hole  where  my  new 
philosophy  was  hidden.  What  was  that,  gleaming 
on  the  dark  water?  It  was  Roark's  hand,  and 
moved  by  the  current,  was  dipping,  dipping,  dip 
ping.  This  alarmed  me.  Was  my  secret  about 
to  be  washed  out?  Should  I  take  the  body  some 
where  else  and  bury  it?  No,  that  would  be  an 
acknowledgment  of  failure.  I  would  leave  it 
alone;  it  might  wash  away,  into  the  creek,  into 
the  river  and  forever  be  buried  under  a  sand-bar. 
But  the  water  fell  too  fast  and  left  it  lying  on  the 
gravel  near  the  mouth  of  the  branch,  I  was  not 
far  away  when  it  was  found.  But  I  could  do 
nothing,  except  to  resolve  upon  an  acknowledg 
ment  of  my  defeat,  and  this  you  must  all  agree  I 
have  done  to  the  best  of  my  capabilities.  I  saw 
the  mob  coming;  I  knew  what  was  up,  I  had 
heard  mutterings,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  it 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  303 

would  not  be  right  to  have  my  short-comings,  my 
failure  attributed  to  another  man,  and  so  I  threw 
away  the  stick  that  I  had  carried  so  long,  that 
had  been  the  implement  of  a  failure,  and  followed 
the  mob.  Mr.  Crump,  the  subject  of  experimental 
science  was  your  friend,  and  you  think  that  you 
have  sustained  a  loss,  but  what  is  your  loss  in 
comparison  with  mine?  You  will  forget  him  within 
a  month;  my  humiliation  remains  with  me.  I 
believe  you  said  something  about  hanging  Mr. 
Hawley." 

"Yes,  and  I'm  sorry  for  it,"  Crump  answered, 
bowed  over. 

"Ah,  but  why  not  hang  me?  I'm  of  no  use  now; 
I'm  ready  to  go." 

He  stood  looking  from  one  to  another.  The 
torches  were  burnt  out;  the  ruffians  under  the 
trees  were  in  the  dark. 

"We  don't  want  to  hang  a  crazy  man;"  said 
Crump,  "but  we'll  take  )'ou  to  town  and  see  what 
the  sheriff  will  do  with  you." 

"All  right,  and  I  will  tell  him  that  I  wish  he  had 
been  the  subject  of  my  failure.  Ladies,  gentle 
men,  all,  I  wish  you  good-night." 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Crump  and  his  mob  were  gone  down  the  turn 
pike,  not  as  they  had  come,  with  fire-brands,  with 
increasing  haste  as  they  drew  near,  but  sullenly 
and  in  darkness  they  trod  along,  the  Professor  in 
the  midst  of  them.  Their  burnt-out  torches  lay 
under  the  trees,  and  one  of  them  still  held  a  red 
speck,  the  dying  eye  of  anger  slowly  giving  up  its 
evil  light. 

In  the  house  there  was  a  strong  smell  of  camphor. 
Chairs  lay  overturned,  all  was  confusion.  Hyster 
ical  women  strove  to  quiet  one  another;  every 
body  talked  at  once  and  nobody  appeared  to  hear 
what  anybody  said.  Among  the  women  Mrs. 
Trapnell  was  the  first  to  compel  attention.  She 
knew  that  the  rioters  would  come  back;  they 
would  get  drunk  in  town,  return  and  commit  all 
sorts  of  depredations.  Oh,  how  disgraceful  it 
was,  and  at  such  a  time,  too;  a  time  when  every 
body  should  be  orderly.  But  it  hadn't  surprised 

304 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  305 

her.  She  knew  that  something  was  going  to 
happen;  she  had  told  the  Judge  as  much  and  man 
like,  he  had  hooted  at  the  idea. 

Ida  lay  upon  a  sofa  and  Hawley  sat  beside  her, 
holding  her  hands,  assuring  her  that  all  danger 
was  past,  that  the  mob  would  not  come  back. 
Why  had  he  not  told  her  that  he  was  suspected 
of  having  killed  Roark?  She  had  begged  him  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  to  tell  her  of  his  trouble  and  he 
had  refused,  had  declared  that  nothing  was  wrong. 
If  he  had  told  her  she  shoujd  have  been  prepared. 
But  as  it  was,  she  had  been  shocked  by  its  sud 
denness,  frightened  almost  to  death.  She  had 
not  thought  of  herself,  but  of  him.  She  would 
give  her  life  for  him.  And  when  she  said  this 
there  came  from  a  woman  who  had  a  marriageable 
daughter  with  her,  the  sentimental  response,  "Yes, 
indeed,  a  thousand  times." 

At  the  hall  door  stood  an  old  negro  from  the 
Hermitage.  He  had  fiddled  in  high  places,  at 
receptions  held  by  governors,  at  diplomatic  festi 
vals,  in  the  White  House  when  Jackson  was  presi 
dent.  He  was  so  old  now  that  he  could  scarcely 
get  about,  was  bald  and  palsied,  but  he  had  heard 

Tennessee  Judge    20 


306  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

that  the  Judge's  granddaughter  was  to  be  married, 
and  had  thought  that  it  was  his  duty  to  be  present. 
Some  one  said  that  old  Jordan  was  at  the  door. 

"Bless  my  soul!"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  "bring 
him  in.  Come  here  old  man.  Ladies  and  gentle 
men,  Andrew  Jackson's  fiddler  is  among  us.  Shake 
hands  with  Mr.  Hawley,  Jordan.  Bless  your  life, 
it  does  me  good  to  see  you.  I  would  have  sent 
for  you  but  I  thought  you  were  in  bed  with  old 
age.  Here,  take  this  chair;  it's  the  easiest  one 
in  the  house.  Bless  my  soul,  it  has  been  a  long 
time  since  I  crossed  the  river  at  the  Hermitage; 
too  many  sad  memories  float  along  there.  Is  the 
old  place  kept  up?  How  is  the  tomb  of  your 
immortal  master." 

The  Judge  was  likely  to  ply  the  old  man  with 
so  many  questions,  to  wander  off  so  far  in  the 
mazes  of  reminiscence,  that  his  wife  reminded 
him  that  the  young  people  wanted  music.  "Ah, 
and  they  shall  have  it,"  he  replied.  "And  it  will 
be  music,  too,  let  me  tell  you;  none  of  your 
screarchings  that  pass  for  tune.  Bring  back  the 
souls  of  long  ago,  Jordan;  give  us  your  master's 
favorites." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  307 

The  old  man  took  his  fiddle  out  of  a  dingy  bag, 
tune  it  with  many  a  twang,  leaned  his  head  forward, 
closed  his  eyes,  played  "Chicken  in  the  Bread 
Tray,"  "Billy  in  the  Low  Ground,"  "Money 
Musk,"  and  Sandy  Faulkner's  "Arkansas  Traveler." 
Fears  were  gone,  nerves  were  soothed.  The  old 
Judge  sat  bowed  over,  his  hands  in  his  lap,  "the 
tears  running  down  his  face.  "Play  on,"  he  said, 
"don't  stop."  The  young  people  had  begun  to  talk, 
and  in  sorrowful  reproach  he  looked  at  them, 
slowly  from  one  to  another,  but  his  face  brightened 
as  though  he  had  suddenly  given  up  a  selfish 
thought,  and  he  said:  ""That  will  do,  Jordan. 
Mandy,  see  that  the  old  man  has  something  to 
eat,  and  here,"  he  added  in  a  low  tone,  "give  him 
twenty  dollars,  the  gold  piece  in  my  trunk  up 
stairs.  Jordan,  when  you  get  ready  to  go  home 
I'll  send  you  in  the  carriage," 

Now  they  could  calmly  talk  about  the  riot. 
The  sentimental  women  with  the  marriageable 
daughter  said  that  it  put  her  so  much  in  mind  of 
the  stories  her  father  told  of  war-times.  Of  course 
she  didn't  remember  the  war.  The  Judge  looked 
at  his  wife.  He  thought  that  she  could  not  let 


3O8  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

this  chance  go  by  and  he  was  right.  "Why," 
said  Mrs.  Trapnell,  "you  and  I  are  about  the  same 
age  and  I  remember  the  war  distinctly." 

"Mr.  Hawley,"  Willis  remarked,  "I  must  com 
pliment  you,  sir.  You  are  a  brave  man." 

"No,"  Hawley  replied,  "I  am  simply  a  fool  when 
I'm  angry." 

"He  has  the  spirit  of  his  town,"  said  the  Judge. 
"He's  afraid  of  nothing.  But  I  thought  that  his 
time  had  come  to-night.  Bob,  it's  a  thousand 
wonders  that  Crump  hadn't  shot  you." 

"I  caught  the  hammer  of  his  pistol  on  my 
thumb  and  that's  what  saved  me,"  Hawley  replied. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Judge,  "and  there  I  hopped 
about  like  an  old  monkey,  trying  to  snatch  the 
thing,  and  it's  well  that  I  didn't,  I  tell  you.  When 
I  stepped  out  I  had  no  notion  that  there  was  any 
trouble  in  prospect;  I  thought  a  lot  of  mules  had 
got  into  the  yard,  but  the  idea  of  a  mob  bent  upon 
mischief  struck  me  the  moment  I  recognized 
Crump.  And  I  knew  that  it  was  not  wise  to  turn 
back  to  get  my  pistols,  that  the  scoundrels  would 
rush  after  me,  so  I  shut  the  door  and  stood  there 
to  argue  with  them,  to  pursuade  them  to  go  away 
quietly." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  309 

"I  have  known  all  along  that  the  old  Professor 
was  mad,"  Hawley  declared,  "and  I  spoke  to 
several  persons  about  it,  you  among  the  number, 
Judge,  but  was  assured  that  he  was  harmless. 
Ida,"  he  added,  "if  a  noisy  beginning  makes  a 
quiet  ending,  we  shall  have  an  even-tempered  after 
life;  engaged  in  a  storm  and  married  at  a  riot,  a 
clattering  record  thus  far." 

The  Judge  laughed.  "Circumstances  have  wanted 
you  to  feel  at  home,  sir,  and  have  introduced  a 
few  of  the  features  of  Chicago.  By  the  way, 
Willis,  you'd  better  go  to-morrow  and  have  the 
old  Doctor  sent  to  an  asylum,  along  with  the  Pro 
fessor.  His  talk  has  been  nearly  as  dangerous  as 
the  mad  man's  club." 

"Judge,"  Willis  replied  with  his  arms  full  of 
gestures  and  with  a  low  bow  of  obedience,  "your 
commission  shall  be  executed.  I  have  thought  for 
a  long  time  that  he  ought  to  be  removed  from  the 
free  haunts  of  man,  indeed,  he  has  given  me  proof 
that  he  ought  to  be  locked  up.  He  has  hinted — 

"Hinted!"  exclaimed  the  Judge,  "didn't  he  say 
that  Hawley  killed  Roark?" 

"Wait  a  moment,  Judge;  wait  just   a    moment. 


3IO  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

I  am  aware,  or  at  least  I  have  cause  to  believe 
that  he  spread  such  a  report,  but  I  have  a  previous 
acquaintance  with  his  insanity;  for  as  I  was  about 
to  say  just  now,  he  hinted  that  decomposed  animal 
matter  was  no  more  necessary  to  the  development 
and  sustenance  of  cellery  than  old  Ben's  mind  was 
essential  to  anthropological  research.  Those  may 
not  be  his  exact  words,"  he  added,  not  willing 
that  the  Doctor  should  rob  him  of  the  credit  of 
this  verbal  arrangement,  "but  I  have  set  forth  his 
idea." 

"The  words  are  exact  enough,  Charles,"  the 
Judge  replied. 

"I  thank  you  for  the  compliment,  sir,"  Willis 
rejoined;  "I  am  proud  to  know  that  you  accord  to 
me  not  only  the  assimilation  of  an  idea,  but  an 
improved  reproduction  of  it.  And  I  am  grateful 
to  Mr.  Havvley  for  assuring  me  that  I  shall  have 
a  fair  compensation  for  my  services.  I  hope  you 
catch  my  meaning,  Mr.  Havvley.  You  know  that 
I  endeavor  to  be  clear,  logical  and  euphonious, 
forcible,  pure,  elegant  and  expressive,  terse, 
pointed  and  convincing." 

"Willis,"  said  Hawley,  "your  memory  is  won 
derfully  exact." 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  311 

"Ah,  I  grant  you,  but  not  so  exact  as  my  grati 
tude.  Why,  our  cousin,  the  bride,  is  happy  again. 
Miss — ah,  pardon  me,  haven't  yet  accustomed  my 
self  to  the  new  handle, — your  return  of  spirits 
and  flush  of  rare  health,  make  us  almost  glad  that 
you  have  gone  through  a  fright.  Now  everybody 
seems  happy,  and  I,  who  rejoice  under  the  unim 
portant  but  yet  not  unmalifluent  appellation  of 
Charles  Willis,  am  joyous  with  the  rest ;  but  Cousin 
Mandy,  it  strikes  me  that  it's  about  time  to  have 
something  to  eat." 

"You  mean  something  to  drink,"  said  the  Judge. 

"Distinguished  juror,  able  expounder  of  the 
criminal  code,  don't  mention  drink  to  me.  I 
loathe  the  accursed  stuff  as  the  flitting  wren  loathes 
the  black  snake." 

"Eh,  and  like  the  wren  you  are  not  able  to  keep 
out  of  the  way." 

"Compelled  to  grant  you  that  point,  Judge. 
Mr.  Hawley — he  is  talking  to  his  bride  and  the 
young  ladies  who  find  in  her  a  subject  of  great 
curiosity.  I  was  going  to  say  that  it  is  a  hard 
matter  for  the  wren  to  keep  out  of  the  jaws  of 
the  snake  The  wren  can  stay  in  the-  air  only  a 


312  A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

certain  length  of  time,  and  when  he  is  compelled 
to  come  down,  it  seems  that  the  snake  is  there 
waiting  for  him.  I  am  not  feeling  well  to-night , 
Judge,"  he  added,  sinking  his  voice.  "I  have  been 
upset  for  a  day  or  two,  and  I  can't  help  but  think 
that  a  little  of  that  old  blackberry-brandy  would 
help  me;  just  a  swallow,  you  know.  Bless,  you, 
I  wouldn't  take  more  than  a  swallow  for  this 
strong  right  arm." 

"You  might  as  well  take  it,  Charles.  What  I 
mean  is  that  if  you  don't  take  it  here  you'll  go 
elsewhere  and  get  it." 

"Judge,  do  you  insinuate — " 

"Oh,  no,  not  at  all,  Charles.  I  don't  insinuate, 
I  simply  know  that  you  are  going  to  get  drunk  and 
that  you  might  as  well  be  about  it." 

Willis  moved  his  chair  closer  to  the  Judge, 
leaned  over  and  in  low  tones  of  sorrow,  said: 
"Insulted  at  a  wedding.  I  didn't  expect  it  of  you, 
Judge." 

"Do  you  want  the  blackberry-brandy  or  would 
you  rather  have  corn  whisky?" 

"Never  would  have  suspected  it  of  you,  Judge. 
Sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  is  an  insult  at  a 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  313 

wedding;  yea,  and  from  a  man  revered  of  yore. 
Anger  were  foolish;  resentment  were  unwise.  I 
know  not  what  to  say." 

"That  is,  you  don't  know  whether  to  say  you'll 
take  the  whisky  or  the  brandy.  Charles,  I  thought 
you  were  a  man  of  quicker  decision." 

"Ah,  and  you  would  add  another  sting;  you 
would  accuse  me  of  weakness  and  vacillation. 
Judge,  I  am  a  man  of  decision.  I'll  take  the 
whisky." 

The  hour  grew  late,  the  guests  were  departing. 
"Good-bye;"  "Wish  you  so  much  happiness;" 
"So  calm  after  the  storm;"  "See  the  moon-light 
— beautiful  omen" — words  of  hope,  of  affection, 
came  tremblingly  from  the  lips  of  women;  and  the 
bride  answered  with  smiles  and  tears,  so  becoming 
to  her.  The  hearty  "Take  care  of  yourself;" 
"Well,  so  long,  old  fellow,"  came  from  the  men, 
and  the  bridegroom  nodded  and  laughed,  so  be 
coming  to  him, 

The  guests  were  gone.  But  a  single  light 
burned  in  the  house,  in  an  upper  room.  Young 
birds,  feeling  the  approach  of  day,  twittered  under 
the  eaves  — a  lesser  light  came  down  the  stairway 
and  then  all  above  was  dark. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

Plans  for  the  renovation  of  the  old  house  had 
been  drawn,  and  it  was  Hawley's  aim  to  travel 
during  the  time  required  to  execute  them.  At 
this  prospect  the  young  wife  was  delighted,  but 
she  did  not  desire  to  be  away  an  hour  longer  than 
it  would  take  to  complete  the  repairs;  she  liked 
to  travel,  she  wanted  to  see  everything  that  was 
to  be  seen,  but  she  was  so  anxious  to  begin  life 
in  her  own  home.  Traveling  could  be  deferred ; 
it  was  a  luxury;  but  to  learn  house  keeping  was 
a  duty,  a  sacred  obligation. 

They  went  to  Chicago,  to  New  York,  to  Boston; 
they  rested  in  New  England  villages,  at  sea-side 
places  and  at  an  old  country  house  where  Hawley's 
mother  was  born.  Ida  gathered  flowers  in  the 
garden  there,  and  pressed  them  between  Tenny 
son's  love-lighted  pages.  She  made  friends  every 
where;  she  gave  money  to  an  old  woman  who  sat 

in  front  of  a  door,  knitting;   to  an  old    man    worn 

314 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  315 

and  shrunken  by  the  rough  winds  of  the  sea;  to 
preachers  that  aspired  to  build  new  churches;  to 
children  in  the  street.  Her  soft  accent  was  music 
in  this  harsh  land,  and  women  asked  her  to  repeat 
certain  words;  her  laugh  was  a  strange  melody 
and  they  told  her  droll  stories.  "Oh,  you  must 
come  and  see  us,"  she  would  say.  And  when  an 
old  woman  who  had  never  been  fifty  miles  from 
home  spoke  of  the  distance,  she  answered  with  a 
laugh:  "Oh,  it  isn't  half  so  far  from  here  there, 
as-  it  is  from  there  here." 

They  were  gone  three  months,  and  when  they 
set  their  faces  toward  home,  Hawley  saw  a  new 
joy  in  her  eyes  They  were  on  a  night  express 
train;  she  could  not  sleep;  she  was  listening  for 
the  name  of  some  familiar  station.  It  would  be 
daylight  when  the  train  reached  Gallatin.  She 
heard  the  name  "South  Tunnel"  and  she  cried, 
"Oh,  Robert,  just  think,  we  are  only  seven  miles 
from  home  after  having  been  so  far  away." 

They  had  telegraphed  and  the  Judge  and  his  wife 
had  come  in  the  carriage  to  meet  them.  The  old 
man  swore  by  the  Eternal  that  he  had  never  been 
so  lonesome  at  any  time  during  all  the  days  of  his 


316  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

existence,  and  whenever  his  wife  attempted  to  say 
something  he  would  shut  her  off  with,  "Now, 
Mandy,  we'll  tell  them  all  about  that  after  a  while." 

The  sun  was  just  rising  when  they  drove  up  to 
the  gate  at  the  Judge's  home,  and  before  going 
into  the  house,  Ida  ran  about  the  yard,  gladdened 
at  the  sight  of  every  familiar  object.  She  awoke 
the  old  dog  and  shook  his  paw;  she  stirred  up  the 
young  dog,  and  he  galloped  about  with  her. 
Hawley  ran  after  her  and  brought  her  back — took 
her  up  and  carried  her  into  the  dining-room,  called 
for  a  "high-chair,"  a  "bib;"  and  told  the  Judge  to 
cut  up  her  meat  while  he  buttered  her  bread. 

"So  everything  is  going  on  all  right  is  it,  Judge?" 
Hawley  asked. 

"First-rate,  but  the  workmen  are  not  quite  done 
yet." 

"Has  Willis  kept  pretty  straight?" 

"Oh,  yes.  He  had  about  a  three  day's  whirl 
after  you  left,  but  I  went  over  to  see  him  and  I 
told  him  that  if  he  didn't  stop  at  once  he  must  get 
right  off  the  place.  He  looked  at  me  reproach 
fully  and  said  that  if  he  couldn't  take  a  drink  or 
two  without  being  insulted  he  guessed  he'd  shut 
off,  and  he  did." 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  317 

"He  had  the  old  Doctor  taken  to  an  asylum,  I 
suppose." 

"Yes,  took  him  the  day  you  left.  The  old 
fellow  begged  piteously;  swore  that  if  we  would 
only  let  him  stay  he'd  never  more  tell  his  dreams, 
would  never  speak  a  word  to  get  people  into 
trouble.  His  greatest  fear  was  that  old  Ben  would 
triumph  over  him  and  rejoice  over  the  downfall 
of  his  medical  ethics;  but  Ben,  the  old  rascal,  and 
I  can't  help  liking  him,  came  up  just  as  they  were 
taking  the  Doctor  away  and  told  him  that  he  was 
greatly  grieved  to  part  company  with  him,  declared 
that  he  had  learned  much  from  him  and  acknowl 
edged  that  Moffet's  school  of  medicine  was  superior 
to  his  own.  At  this  the  Doctor  shed  tears  of 
gratitude,  wept  on  Ben's  shoulder,  and  they  had 
to  take  him  away." 

"Poor  old  fellow,"  said  Hawley,  "I'm  sorry  for 
him  but  he  had  to  go;"  and  after  a  short  silence 
he  asked:  "How  long  do  you  think  it  will  take 
them  to  finish  the  house?" 

"About  a  week,  I  should  think.  The  carpets 
are  not  down  yet,  but  that  won't  take  long  with 
Mandy  and  Ida  to  superintend  the  work.  Take 


3l8  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

things  easy,  sir;  everything  will  be  all  right  after 
a  while." 

"Oh,  we  are  not  in  any  hurry." 

"No,"  said  the  Judge,  "for  you  must  know  that 
you  are  at  home  already." 

How  much  faster  the  work  progressed  after 
Hawley  returned.  Difficulties  were  not  slowly 
met  but  were  seized  and  lifted  out  of  the  way. 
The  ruined  room  was  fitted  up  for  a  summer  study, 
and  though  made  securer,  it  was  but  little  changed 
in  outside  appearance;  the  vine  was  not  disturbed. 
At  last  the  work  was  about  completed;  the  carpets 
were  down,  the  hangings  were  up,  the  pictures 
were  hung.  One  evening  at  supper  the  Judge 
said:  "Bob,  go  to  town  with  me  to-morrow.  I 
am  to  dispose  of  my  last  law  case,  by  compromise, 
too,  and  then  I  shall  close  my  office  forever.  I 
am  nearly  eighty- three  years  old." 

They  were  ready  soon  after  breakfast  but  they 
did  not  go  until  after  dinner.  The  old  man  had 
sat  about  the  house,  walked  about  the  yard,  put 
ting  off  his  final  retirement  from  the  affairs,  the 
wrangles  of  men.  The  case  was  soon  settled,  and 
then  they  sat  in  the  court-house,  talking.  The  day 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  319 

was  hot  and  the  doors  were  open.  A  dog,  panting 
but  too  lazy  to  move,  lay  stretched  out  where  a 
sun-beam  fell.  From  across  the  square  came  the 
song  of  a  mocking  bird,  caged  years  ago.  There 
were  but  few  men  in  the  clerk's  office — a  young 
fellow  who  had  come  to  take  out  a  marriage  license, 
an  old  man  to  look  up  a  deed,  and  a  lean  skin-flint 
with  a  whip  under  his  arm,  come  to  ask  the  clerk's 
opinion  and  thereby  to  save  a  lawyer's  fee.  The 
Judge  was  talking  about  a  famous  murder  trial, 
years  ago,  of  Felix  Grundy  whose  words  were  like 
a  shower  of  sparks  at  night.  An  old  man  stepped 
across  the  threshold  of  the  main  door,  stumbled 
over  the  dog,  turned  to  look  at  him,  and  then 
facing  about,  slowly  advanced  toward  the  center 
of  the  room.  Suddenly  the  Judge  sprang  to  his 
feet  with  a  cry  that  rang  throughout  the  house — 
"By  the  just  and  Eternal  God!"  The  clerk  bounded 
toward  him.  "Back,  damn  you,  let  no  man  touch 
me  or  I'll  kill  him!"  He  stood  with  two  pistols 
in  his  hands,  shaking  them.  An  old  man,  shrunken, 
trembling  with  palsy,  stood  looking  at  him.  "Gor 
don  P.  Hensley,  God  has  appointed  your  time  to 
die  Back  there!"  he  shouted  at  the  clerk.  "Make 


32O  A    TENNESSEE   JUDGE 

another  motion  toward  me  and  I'll  kill  you." 
The  old  man  stood  looking  at  him,  uttering  not 
a  word,  his  head  shaking.  "Gordon  P.  Hensley, 
the  hope  that  I  might  one  day  shoot  you  down  has 
kept  me  alive — God's  tonic.  But  I  will  give  you 
a  chance  for  your  life.  A  thousand  times  in  my 
sleep,  have  I  shed  your  blood  but  I  won't  butcher 
you.  Here!"  He  stepped  forward,  clapped  both 
pistols  on  a  table,  stepped  back  and  said:  "Take 
one  of  them.  Oh,  your  time  or  mine  has  come. 
Take  one,  I  tell  you.  Are  you  waiting  for  me. 
Oh,  you  haven't  forgotten  your  politeness,  but 
how  about  your  treachery!" 

The  Judge  stepped  forward,  caught  up  a  pistol 
and  stepped  back.  "Take  that  pistol  or  I'll  blow 
your  brains  out!  I  have  carried  them  forty  years 
for  you.  Are  you  going  to  take  it?"  He  raised 
his  own  weapon,  cast  a  threatening  look  at  the 
men  standing  stupefied  about  him  and  then  bent- 
his  gaze  on  the  old  man. 

"Wait  one  moment,"  said  Hensley,  "and  then  I 
will.  There  are  just  a  few  words  that  I  want  to 
say.  I  have  dodged  you  nearly  half  my  life — I 
know  that  I  had  been  treacherous  to  you,  that  I 


A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE  321 

had  put  you  on  a  block  and  sold  you.  But  what 
had  you  done  to  me?  You  had  not  robbed  me  of 
an  ambition,  but  of  the  woman  I  loved." 

"What,  so  near  the  grave  and  still  a  liar!  I 
did  not  rob  you.  She  did  not  love  you.  Take 
that  pistol,  I  tell  you.  Gentlemen,  stand  back. 
Hawley,  I  entreat  you  not  to  come  near  me." 

"One  moment,  Judge,"  Hensley  implored  with 
hands  up-lifted.  "I  haven't  said  what  I  wanted 
to  say.  Be  patient  just  a  moment  and  then  your 
vengeance  shall  be  satisfied.  For  years  I  have 
been  living  over  in  Williamson  county,  with  my 
daughter.  Four  week  ago  she  came  over  here 
to  visit  some  relatives,  and  she  brought  with  her 
the  child  that  carried  my  withered  heart  in  his 
hand.  He  was  the  only  human  being  that  was 
innocent  enough  to  love  me.  My  daughter  wrote 
to  me  that  he  was  sick;  she  couldn't  bring  him 
back;  she  hadn't  the  money  and  I  couldn't  send 
it  to  her.  I  came  on  here  as  best  I  could,  begging 
my  way.  Last  night  the  little  fellow  died — and 
I  am  here  now  to  get  a  coffin  for  him,  and  I  am  in 
this  house  to  beg  for  money,  and  not  for  my  life. 

Tennessee  Judge    21 


322  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

Now,  sir,  you  may  take  up  the  other  pistol.  I 
don't  want  it." 

The  Judge  had  reached  out  and  caught  hold  of 
the  back  of  a  chair.  A  silence  seemed  to  come 
down  from  the  deserted  corridors  above,  to  op 
press  itself  upon  the  scene;  and  naught  save  the 
breathing  of  the  old  men  could  be  heard.  The 
Judge  took  his  hand  off  the  chair,  reached  forward, 
took  hold  of  a  corner  of  the  table  and  placed  the 
other  pistol  upon  the  green  cloth.  He  straightened 
up,  fumbled  in  his  pocket,  took  out  the  money 
that  he  had  received  for  his  last  case,  and  placed 
it  beside  the  pistol.  He  said  nothing;  he  turned 
and  stretched  out  his  hand  toward  Hawley,  and 
when  Hawley  leaped  over  a  bench,  bounded  to 
him,  put  his  arm  about  him,  he  whispered:  "Let 
us  go  home  " 

He  stumbled  slightly  as  Hawley  led  him  toward 
the  door;  and  then  a  loud  sob  broke  from  the 
wretched  man  whom  they  had  left  standing  there. 
"You  don't  mean  to  give  me  this,  do  you!"  he  cried. 
The  Judge  looked  back,  said  nothing,  made  a 
motion  with  his  open  hand.  He  dropped  his  hand 
kerchief  as  Hawley  was  helping  him  into  the  buggy, 


A   TENNESSEE   JUDGE  323 

and  when  it  was  handed  him,  he  said:  "I  thank 
you  for  your  courtesy."  Slowly  and  silently  they 
drove  down  the  street,  across  the  bridge,  out  the 
turnpike. 

"Is  that  a  man  or  a  woman  going  along  there?" 
the  Judge  asked. 

"A  man,"  Hawley  answered. 

"I  couldn't  tell.  My  old  eyes  are  failing  me, 
sir." 

Ida  was  at  the  gate  when  they  drove  up. 
"Gramper,  are  you  sick?"  she  asked.  He  smiled 
at  her  but  answered  not.  Hawley  drew  her  back 
and  told  her.  Mrs.  Trapnell  came  to  the  door. 
Something  had  gone  wrong  with  her  and  she  was 
in  a  fault-finding  humor.  "Madam, "said  Hawley, 
whispering  to  her,  "don't  say  anything  to  worry 
him.  He  has  met  Gordon  P.  Hensley."  She 
caught  her  breath  and  looked  hard  at  Hawley. 
"No,  he  didn't  kill  him  S-h-e-e,  he  might  hear 
you." 

She  ran  to  the  old  man  and  kissed  him,  told  him 
how  glad  she  was  that  he  had  closed  out  his  law 
business.  Now  he  would  not  be  a  slave  when 
court  met;  now  they  would  drive  about  together 
and  be  happy. 


324  A    TENNESSEE    JUDGE 

They  sat  down  to  supper.  The  old  man  said 
not  a  word,  he  ate  nothing,  he  gazed  through  the 
window  at  the  sun  behind  the  trees  on  the  brow 
of  the  hill.  After  supper  he  walked  out  into  the 
orchard,  down  among  the  older  trees.  And  when 
he  had  been  gone  a  short  time,  Hawley  and  Ida 
followed  him.  They  saw  him  sitting  under  a  tree, 
his  face  turned  toward  the  red  glow  in  the  woods, 
his  hat,  the  old  white  hat,  beside  him.  Ida's  skirts 
caught  on  a  briar. 

"Now  don't  you  run  away  from  me,  Robert. 
Come  back  here  you  rascal  and  be  jealous.  Don't 
you  see  I've  caught  a  beau?" 

She  picked  her  skirts  clear  of  the  briar  and  look 
ing  up,  saw  Hawley  hastening  toward  her,  back 
from  the  tree  where  the  old  man  sat. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter,  Robert?" 

"Don't  go  down  there,  precious,"  he  said  put 
ting  his  arms  about  her;  "my  little  girl  you  must 
not  go  down  there." 

Down  in  the  orchard  where  the  trees  are  old, 
a  monument  gleams  through  the  low-hanging 
boughs;  and  a  stone-cutter,  following  the  lines 


A   TENNESSEE    JUDGE  325 

given  him  by  Bob  Hawley,  has  dug  these  words  in 
the  rock:  "He  swore  by  the  Eternal;  he  said 
that  justice,,  that  nature  knew  not  how  to  forgive, 
and  yet  in  one  moment  of  pity  he  tore  from  his 
breast  a  hatred  that  had  burned  therein  for  more 
than  forty  years." 


THE  END. 


The  Library  of  Choice  Fiction. 

No  other  similar  Series  contains  such  a  proportion  of  M-»a*terpiece8 

iy  Fatuous  Writers  from  America,  England,  France,  Ge^»i*tvyt 

~tc.    It  contains  EVERY  ONE  of  the  Thrilling  Stories  of 

Travel  and  Adventure  by  this  popular  Writer. 

WILLIAM  M.  THOMES. 


1  GOLD  HUNTER'S  ADVENTURES  IN  AUSTRALIA.. 

An  exciting  story  of  the  time  when  the  thirst  for  gold  i  >ged 
fiercely  at  the  Antipodes.  564  pages  ;  40  full-page  illustrations. 

A  WHALEMAN'S  ADVENTURES  ON  SEA  AND  LAND. 

A  vivid  story_  of  life  on  a  whaler  on  the  Pacific  Ocean.  444  pages 
and  36  full-page  illustrations. 

THE  BUSHRANGERS ;  A  Yankee's  Adventures  during  a  Sec 
ond  Trip  to  Australia. 

Replete  with  exciting  exploits  among  the  most  lawless  class  of 
men.  480  pages;  16  full -page  illustrations. 

A  SLAVER'S  ADVENTURES  ON  SEA  ANI>  LAND. 

A  thrilling  recital  of  an  adventurous  life  on  tie  deck  of  a  slaver. 
405  pages  and  41  full-page  illustrations. 

RUNNING  THE  BLOCKADE. 

A  splendid  narrative  of  the  life  of  a  Union  officer  on  secret  duty  on 
board  a  Rebel  blockade  runner.  474  pages;  eight  full-page  illustra 
tions 

THE  GOLD  HUNTERS  IN  EUROPE ;  or,  The  Dead  Alive. 

A  constant  succession  of  perilous  adventures  are  herein  related. 
384  pages ;  34  full-page  illustrations. 

THE  BELLE  OF  AUSTRALIA;  or,  Who  Am  I  ? 

Love  and  adventure  are  splendidly  treated  in  this  well  conceived 
story.  325  pages;  fully  illustrated. 

ON  LAND  AND  SEA;  or,  California  in  the  Years  1843,  '44 
and  '45. 

A  graphic  description  of  country,  people  and  events  in  a  most  ur 
teresting  period.  351  pages  Never  issued  yet  in  paper  covers. 

LEWEY  AND  I;  or,  A  Sailor  Boy's  Wanderings. 

A  sequel  to  "Land  and  Sea,"  and  the  latest  work  of  this  famous 
author.  Never  issued  yet  in  paper  covers.  4O7  pages. 


ReadeA  of  good  literature  are  advised  to  procure  Laird  &  Lee's 
Publications,  as  they  are  printed  in  large  type  on  excell*  nt  paper,  pro 
fusely  illustrated,  and  bound  in  solid  and  attractive  covert;. 

SOLO  BY  ALL  NEWSDEALERS  AND  UPON  ALL  TRAINS,  OR   SUPPUFO 
BY  THE  PUBLISHERS. 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  CHICAGO 


THE  LINY  OF 


"NOTHING  SUCCEEDS  LIKE  SUCCESS!" 

When  it  is  based  upon  excellence  of  make-up,  as  well  as  upon  the 

GENUINE   MERIT   OF   THE    BOOKS. 

The     growing     and     generous     patronage 
of  the  Public 

LAIRD  &  LEE'S  SERIES 

To  continue  doing  so,  they  have  secured, 

IN  ACCORDANCE  WITH  THE  NEW  COPYRIGHT  LAW 

A  Number  of  MSS.  by  Famous  Foreign  Authors. 

Among  those  they  issue  first,   fully  illustrated  by  Parisian 
artists,  the  following  exceptionally  brilliant  novels,  translated  by 
IV1AX     IX/1AURY: 

AURETTE'S  HUSBAND.     By  HENRY  GREVILLE. 

A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  THE  PERIOD.     By  ANDRE  THEURIET. 

A  STORY  WITHOUT  A  MORAL.     By  HECTOR  MALOT. 

In  addition  to  these  we  are  issuing  in  superb  style 
MASTERPIECES  OF  FOREIGN  FICTION 

printed  in  the  original  language  in  which  they  were  written. 

IN  FRENCH:"  Contes  Choisis"  [Select  Tales],  by  that  Prince 
of  story-tellers,  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT. 

IN  GERMAN:  ,,Das  (Sebcimntfi  ber  altcn  lUamfeU"  [The  Old 
Maid's  Secret1,  the  immortal  novel  by  E.  MARLITT. 

Readers  of  good  literature  are  advised  to  procure  LAIRD  <fc  LEE'S  Publi 
cations,  as  they  are  printed  in  large  type  on  excellent  paper,  profusely  illus 
trated,  and  bound  in  solid  and  attractive  covers. 

Sold  by  all  newsdealers  and  upon  all  trains,  or  supplied 
by  the  publishers, 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  CHICAGO. 

Adv.  C. 


The  Library  of  Choice  Fiction. 


No  other  similar  Series  contains  such  a  proportion  of  M^a 

>y  Fatuous  Writers  from  America,  England,  France,  GWtt.«nyt 
~tc.    It  contains  EVERY  ONE  of  the  Thrilling  Stories  of 
Travel  and  Adventure  by  this  popular  Writer. 

WILLIAM  M.  THOMES. 


<*  GOLD  HUNTER'S  ADVENTURES  IN  AUSTRALIA 

An  exciting  story  of  the  time  when  the  thirst  for  gold  i  >ge<i 
fiercely  at  the  Antipodes.  564  pages  ;  40  full-page  illustrations. 

A  WHALEMAN'S  ADVENTURES  ON  SEA  AND  LAND. 

A  vivid  story_  of  life  on  a  whaler  on  the  Pacific  Ocean.  444  pages 
and  36  full-page  illustrations. 

THE  BUSHRANGERS ;  A  Yankee's  Adventures  during  a  Sec 
ond  Trip  to  Australia. 

Replete  with  exciting  exploits  among  the  most  lawless  class  of 
men.  480  pages;  16  full -page  illustrations. 

A  SLAVER'S  ADVENTURES  ON  SEA  ANB  LAND. 

A  thrilling  recital  of  an  adventurous  life  on  t&e  deck  of  a  slaver. 
405  pages  and  41  full-page  illustrations. 

RUNNING  THE  BLOCKADE. 

A  splendid  narrative  of  the  life  of  a  Union  officer  on  secret  duty  on 
board  a  Rebel  blockade  runner.  474  pages ;  eight  full-page  illustra 
tions 

THE  GOLD  HUNTERS  IN  EUROPE ;  or,  The  Dead  Alive. 

A  constant  succession  of  perilous  adventures  are  herein  related. 
384  pages ;  34  full-page  illustrations. 

THE  BELLE  OF  AUSTRALIA;  or,  Who  Am  I  ? 

Love  and  adventure  are  splendidly  treated  in  this  well  conceived 
story.  325  pages  ;  fully  illustrated. 

ON  LAND  AND  SEA;  or,  California  in  the  Years  1843,  '44 
and  '45. 

A  graphic  description  of  country,  people  and  events  in  a  most  in* 
teresting  period.  351  pages  Never  issued  yet  in  paper  covers. 

LEWEY  AND  I ;  or,  A  Sailor  Boy's  Wanderings. 

A  sequel  to  "  Land  and  Sea,"  and  the  latest  work  of  this  famous 
author.  Never  issued  yet  in  paper  covers.  407  pages. 


ReadeA  of  good  literature  are  advised  to  procure  Laird  &  Lee's 
Publications,  as  they  are  printed  in  large  type  on  excellent  paper,  pro 
fusely  illustrated,  and  bound  in  solid  and  attractive  coveru. 

SOLD  BY  ALL  NEWSDEALERS  AND  UPON  ALL  TRAINS,  OR  SUPPLIF1 
BY  THE   PUBLISHERS. 

LAIRD  <&  LEE,  CHICAGO 


*& 


LINY  OF 


"NOTHING  SUCCEEDS  LIKE  SUCCESS!" 

When  it  is  based  upon  excellence  of  make-up,  as  well  as  upon  the 

GENUINE   MERIT   OF    THE    BOOKS. 

The     growing     and     generous     patronage 
of  the  Public 

LAIRD  &  LEE'S  SERIES 

To  continue  doing  so,  they  have  secured, 

IN  ACCORDANCE  WITH  THE  NEW  COPYRIGHT  LAW 

A  Number  of  MSS.  by  Famous  Foreign  Authors. 

Among  those  they  issue  first,  fully  illustrated  by  Parisian 
artists,  the  following  exceptionally  brilliant  novels,  translated  by 
MAX     IN/IAURY: 

AURETTE'S  HUSBAND.     By  HENRY  GREVILLE. 

A  YOUNG  MAN  OF  THE  PERIOD.     By  ANDRE  THEURIET. 

A  STORY  WITHOUT  A  MORAL.     By  HECTOR  MALOT. 

In  addition  to  these  we  are  issuing  in  superb  style 

MASTERPIECES  OF  FOREIGN  FICTION 

printed  in  the  original  language  in  which  they  were  written. 

IN  FRENCH:  "  Contes  Choisis"  [Select  Tales],  by  that  Prince 
of  story-tellers,  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT. 

IN  GERMAN:  ,,Z)as  (Sebetmmft  ber  alten  lUamfcU"  [The  Old 
Maid's  Secret1,  the  immortal  novel  by  E.  MARLITT. 

Eeadersof  good  literature  are  advised  to  procure  LAIRD  &  LEE'S  Publi 
cations,  as  they  are  printed  in  large  type  on  excellent  paper,  profusely  illus 
trated,  and  bound  in  solid  and  attractive  covers. 

Sold  by  all  newsdealers  and  upon  all  trains,  or  supplied 
by  the  publishers. 

LAIRD  &  LEE,  CHICAGO. 

Adv.  C. 


THIS  SERIES  ;  ,  fhe 

Library         Library 

J                                    GROWS  J 

Ol                         Montn  after  Month  -       Ol 


Choice  Choice 

Fiction        ^SERVED  POPULARITY.        Fiction 

WH5T?  .  .  .  BECAUSE 

It    Contains     Only    Sterling     Books,    Beautifully 
Printed,   Illustrated   and  Bound. 

The   F7owers    of  the   American 

Paper-bound  Book  Trade. 

TIE  TEN  GREflT  FRENCH  HOVELS 

Translated  by  Master  Hands. 


I'. 

3.  SAPPHO  ..........................  By  ALFHONSE  DAUDET 

4.  A  MAN  OF  HONOR  ...............  By  OCTAVE  FEUILLET 

5.  MADAME  BOVARY  ..............  By  GUSTAVE  FLAUBERT 

6.  MAUPRAT  ............................  By  GEORGE  SAND 

7.  A  LIFE'S  DECEIT  .........  By  the  BROTHERS  GONCOURT 

8.  "  NOTRE  CCEUR  "  ..............  By  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT 

9.  THE  CHOUANS  .................  By  HONORE  DE  BALZAC 

10.  PIERRE  ET  JEAN  .............  By  GUY  DE  MAUPASSANT 

For  full  Lists  of  our  French  Translations  and  of  our  HIGH 
CLASS  COPYRIGHTED  NOVELS  by  American  Authors  send 
for  our  complete  catalogue, 

Readers  of  good  literature  are  advised  to  procure  LAIBD  &  LEB'S  publica 
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and  bound  in  solid  and  attractive  covers. 

Sold  by  all  Newsdealers  and  upon  all  Trains,  or  supplier 
by  the  Publishers, 

L-AIFRD    &    L.EES,    OHIOAC3O. 

\dT.  D. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUL  3     1953 


PormL9 — 15m-10,'48(B1039)444 


UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 
LOS  ANGELES 


PS 


Re«d  - 


2679 
R22t 


A  Tennessee 
judge. 


iafi>3JUL  3     RECD 


PS 

2679 

R22t 


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